


caleo

by pikatif



Series: red as the dawn [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Betrayal, Eventual Smut, Fluff, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Injury, Let's Go Lesbians, Lies, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Minor Violence, OT21 (NCT), Rebels, Red Queen AU basically, Slow Burn, Superpowers, They're the bad guys, Unresolved Sexual Tension, War, but i changed A LOT dw if u don't know anything, did i mention slow burn bc this is SO SLOW, error 404 no heterosexuals found, eventually, unapologetic use of stage names
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:47:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 60,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22040434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pikatif/pseuds/pikatif
Summary: “You make me crazy,”“Funny, ‘cause you make me sane.”Seducing the prince wasn’t originally part of Donghyuck’s plan to save his best friend, but then again neither was joining the rebellion.
Relationships: Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee, Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin, Lee Taeyong/Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten
Series: red as the dawn [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1725274
Comments: 31
Kudos: 87





	1. the face of the future (the blood in my veins)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> was i meant to revise? yes. did i? no.  
> instead, have this goddamn red queen au i never should've made but wrote like 30k for but it was p much a rewrite of the whole plot and like?? we don't need all that so i've tried cutting it down to this current mess of just markhyuck pov (rip nana and ten pov u will be missed)  
> et voila, have this intro in mark's pov  
> (treasure it bc we won't hear from him again in like 5 chapters)

Smiling had become second nature to Mark – an ironic expression, as there was nothing _natural_ at all about his forced politeness, the tight tug of his lips and painfully squinting eyes. Even more ironic was that fact that his current smile was genuine, aimed at a group of wide-eyed kids huddled under the moth-bitten shawl of their mother, all clustered on one side of the river. The youngest girl, with scraggly hair and cheeks burned red from the cold, gave a shy smile back.

Meanwhile, the rest of Mark’s family donned regal stares of intimidation, shoulders back and chins up like comperes about to recite a prologue – a prologue of death and duty. After all, this whole grandiose parade across the water was just another display of the hierarchy: Silvers travelling high and mighty while the Reds looked on in awe or terror. Death hung over the Reds, his scythe to their throats; Duty haunted the Silvers, her noose invisible but ever present.

Even royalty such as themselves felt the cold caress of the rope at their neck, only theirs was tied much looser. It barely bothered Mark – what bothered him were the stick-thin citizens splayed across the riverbanks. All were too old or too young, the rest had already been nicked at the throat and sent to war. He’d been there once. He’d survived its horrors. (He hadn’t lived through them, though. That spoiled, immature prince died with the rest of his squadron, grey and crimson mixing into the dirty mud in a sickening image.)

The candles did little to warm the cloudless summer night, but they served as good distraction for Rachael, who killed her boredom by engulfing it in the flames. She made them dance, she made them roar. Sometimes, she shaped the flames into a beast – a growling lion or hissing serpent, and once a long, wingless dragon. The Red onlookers shivered at the sights, no longer concerned about the cold. Allowing this to continue, her mother revelled in the fear swathing the air. Mark sighed: his sister still didn’t know when she was being used.

Reds didn’t even have powers to rely on. The Silvers took away everything else: their strength rationed, their education useless, their will whittled down to a blunt stump. What if Reds had powers, would the blood divide still be as significant? His smile dropped as he answered his own question: _if they had powers, they’d be Silver_. Nortans such as themselves didn’t believe in any higher powers, but the Lakelanders had gods, and he wondered if those gods thought it through when they decided to bless a chosen few with abilities beyond human. (Nortans preferred the idea that they were a natural progression, the next step in evolution – but what threats were so terrible that humans had to evolve the power to control fire, water, animals, minds?)

Mark didn’t know which was worse – the Lakes and their manipulation through religion or the Nortans and their self-proclaimed superiority. They were probably both just as bad, seeing as they’d been at war for a few decades now, all the costs paid in rivers of red with the occasional teardrop of silver. That Silvers in general were the worst, Mark did know, and he hated being in such a position of power yet still unable to do a single thing about it. Some days he wished his father would collapse out of cardiac arrest, just so he could take the reins and steer their country out of misery – but then he always remembered why that wouldn’t help either.

As the boat rounded past the Red village, it began to pick up pace. Mark glanced back, searching for any signs of the family he’d seen earlier, but only found a crowd of orphans in rags. One was being beaten by a Guard, presumably for stealing the bread that soaked in the brown water below them, his cries outdone by the crack of the whip – still audible from where the royal ship was gliding away. The cold numbed around Mark’s fingers as he clenched the railing, teeth gritted as he glared at the specks in the distance, their black and red uniforms unmistakeable amidst the forest of tatters and muck. Sentinels were dicks, but Guards were a special kind of asshole.

A cough from behind forced him to break his gaze, turning with a huff as he prepared to argue with his father or sister or some hopeful general about whatever pointless questions they’d have. Instead, his bad mood vanished as he recognised the red robes fitting the boy before him, slightly less itchy-looking than the usual servant attire. Renjun insisted he hadn’t changed the fabric at all, but a roll of satin was still missing from a year ago, and Mark definitely wouldn’t put it past him to have learnt how to sew his own clothes out of spite for the regular suits being so terrible.

Renjun addressed him curtly as he handed over a thick coat, despite Mark being a burner and practically radiating heat at all times, as he nodded his head slightly over to the left, towards Mark’s step-mother. The coat was a cover – figuratively more than literally – for Renjun to warn him of Queen Isla’s ice-cold stare, threatening to pierce through whatever walls they had up to protect their secrets. They’d left the crowds of commoners, and now the field was a lot clearer for a whisper to navigate. Mark held eye contact with her for a second, daring her to try and sneak past his barriers, until she turned away with a flick of her pale hair.

Her cold presence convinced Mark to actually put the coat on, turning back to Renjun as he mumbled his thanks, but the servant responded by tapping his right pocket. Noticing the cue, Mark fished into his own right pocket, hands curling around a crinkling paper: a letter. He glanced about, surveying the area, finding nothing but Rachael’s flames colliding with the fog as the king and queen engaged with another old nobleman. Seeing no immediate threat, Mark turned back to Renjun, mouthing ‘ _Who?_ ’

Renjun responded with a look as if Mark was stupid. Instead of an actual answer, he simply glared and mouthed back ‘ _Not yet_.’ Afterwards, he retreated to the bridge, having left the prince in a slightly worse mood than he’d been five minutes ago.

Mark often wondered why he’d bothered to save Renjun from the gallows all those years ago – Sara, Koi, and Taron, sure, but then that’s because they all went their own merry separate ways, working as royal servants in kitchens and gardens and places far from where Mark went. Renjun, of course, decided to be a royal assistant, so they were each blessed with the other’s presence near daily. Mark understood why, though; it’s not like he could let the illegitimate son of Lord Sai run free across the country – it was better if Renjun stuck close. Half-Silvers were old wives’ tales to most, but Mark knew they were very real.

That’s when it hit him, the idea like a sharp pinch to the stomach, something so obvious and simple. Hell, he’d done it before. One by one, he could save the Reds who still had lives to live. It wouldn’t be easy, and it certainly wouldn’t solve the problem, but it would be a start. He breathed in the cool freshwater air around him, the fumes from the fuel only another comfort as he settled on his mission. A sudden coldness spiked at the side of his head, knocking on the doors of his mind, and he shivered under its inspection.

Though the royals may not have had as tight a noose as other Silvers, Death joined Duty at their throats. Mark gulped, feeling its cold touch scrape against his Adam’s apple.

Death and Duty shared title and body, all of which belonged to the Queen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're in for the heckin long haul mate (dw they meet in the next chapter)  
> rachael is an oc bc she's,, maven's role,,,,  
> i also changed all the house names bc i was bored and i will list them when they come but for now:  
> burners (royals): heizen  
> whispers: nathair


	2. always fine lines between us (they say our lives don't mean much)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things: hyuck has 2 mums and jisung, ten, and tsubaki (token girl oc) are his adoptive siblings, they also have a cat and hyuck hates her, ten and tsubaki are away at war, and the drafting thing is a little different it's a seasonal thing rather than a 'hunted down the day u turn 18' thing which is why hyuck is technically 18 currently but not in the war   
> -  
> we've skipped like 10k of expo and are diving straight into the angst buckle up bitches

A splitting headache couldn’t have convinced Donghyuck to stay at home, just as he couldn’t convince the Guards to spare his brother. Two weeks, and Donghyuck would leave. Another two years, and Jisung would have to leave too. He’d be on crutches for life, at best, and if not Jeno wouldn’t even be around anymore to make Jisung a chair like the one he’d made for Honey. He hadn’t just doomed his best friend, he’d also just doomed his brother. Perhaps if he’d been more forceful with the Scarlet Guard, or whatever they were, then this might have never happened – he never should’ve agreed to the impossible task of gaining two thousand crowns over a weekend. He should’ve argued and bartered his life if it meant everyone else was safe, but he didn’t; he played along with their cruel game, the sting of the gash in his head from the Silvertown fight hardly enough punishment.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Donghyuck was meant to die alone.

He wandered into the bar as if it were any other night and he was just here for some easy pickings from the drunk Reds, too dazed to notice their lighter pockets. He’d have a drink between every round of pacing around the seats, bumping into people and slipping past others, always fishing something from their pockets, some of the Reds unable to offer even a full crown, if the abundance of credits and pennies was enough to tell Donghyuck about his people’s poverty. Other nights, he’d feel guilty about taking from people who had so little left to give, but not tonight. Tonight, he had other things to feel guilty about and wallow in, hoping it would all drown him so he wouldn’t have to face the consequences.

Perhaps he _was_ drowning, as he’d gotten sloppy – or maybe he was tired, it must’ve been around two or three in the morning by then – because the last person he tried to steal from grabbed his hand dangerously, as if he’d been waiting for someone to attack him the whole night, the contact almost burning Donghyuck through his sleeve.

His eyes further supported this idea, Donghyuck noticed, as they flickered about in anticipation, the pair of glowing bronze orbs searching him up and down. Donghyuck gulped, feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable and worse, lost for words, as the other boy, who couldn’t have been much older than him, maybe a year, scanned him as if he were an oddly shaped apple from the market. So, he quickly snapped out of his self-pity, and returned the accusatory scanning, glaring at the hooded boy up and down.

Strands of black hair poked out from the darkness of his hood, cleaner-looking than any Red’s hair should’ve been, and his skin was almost white in the faulty streetlamp lighting, definitely paler than any Red’s skin should’ve been. Donghyuck would’ve assumed the boy to be sick, if he hadn’t scanned up and down his whole body, which he was now starting to regret because _wow_ , the mysterious boy was pretty lean beneath all the cloak and cloth. Of course, his eyes had to flick back up and notice the boy’s just as chiselled face. He was hardly a Greek statue – his eyes were too big, almost like a startled kitten – but he’d been blessed with a strong jawline and high cheekbones, though perhaps a little on the thin side, his pale skin wrapping dangerously close around his bones.

Perhaps a more sober, less depressed, no-giant-gash-in-the-side-of-his-head Donghyuck could’ve put the puzzle pieces together and seen the obvious picture, but current Donghyuck could barely figure out which was the corner piece at this point.

Mystery boy quickly snatched his hand away, and Donghyuck felt the air around him dip, cooling down. “Thief,” He stated, quite dumbly, looking more confused than angry at having just been the victim of Donghyuck’s pick-pocketing.

Any other guy would’ve beaten him up for such a thing, and Donghyuck was waiting for just that, for this strong yet somehow sickly looking boy to beat the shit out of him – punishment for all the bad things that had happened in the last 24 hours. A wheeze escaped him at the realisation: _just 24 hours_. That’s all it took to turn several lives of the people he loved upside down, his own included, and it was all his fault.

“Are you _laughing?_ ”

 _Oh, right, mystery boy_. Donghyuck decided to answer him – after all, he had nothing left to lose. “Yep. It’s how I deal with my crushed hopes and dreams, you should try it some time.”

The other boy pressed his lips together, scowling at Donghyuck’s words. Apparently, he was a thoughtful one, and Donghyuck did not have a very good history with those – mainly because he never thought about his words, ever, and when other people did it put them in the moral high ground and Donghyuck Did Not Like That. It seemed an age had passed before the boy finally spoke again, his words slow and almost patronising, “That doesn’t sound like something to laugh about in my opinion.”

Oh, a thoughtful _and_ opinionated one? Donghyuck Did Not Like That the Sequel. “What else am I supposed to do, sit and waste hours crying? That doesn’t help anything, people gotta move on.” A blatant lie.

“Contrary to popular belief, crying helps get rid of negative emotions a lot, actually.” Since when did Donghyuck ask for this handsome stranger’s advice? _Can he_ please _go away?_ “It sorta, like, lets all the bad stuff out? I’m not sure about all the details, but my friend did the study on it. It’s actually super interesting too? I don’t know, I never thought psychology could be cool, I guess.”

Wait, was Donghyuck speaking to… a nerd? Anyway, this was a massive escalation from the first one-word accusatory utterance of “thief”, so Donghyuck decided to take the boy’s sudden openness as a sign of truce.

He hummed, “M’kay, I can give it a go in a bit, but right now I need to collect another,” He glanced at the contents of his pockets, frowning when he saw that they didn’t even make a hundred crowns, “1,900 crowns, maybe more.”

As he sighed, the boy made a weird noise – confusion? Disgust? More accusation? – and Donghyuck was _not_ expecting a very shiny silver coin to come flying towards him, almost hitting him in his wound. He caught it in time and had half a mind to yell at the mystery nerd for nearly giving him a concussion, until he saw the symbols on the coin. Intricate swirls on either side that shone like the blood of a Silver swarmed about the royal crest engraved into the metal, its width thicker than a common coin and decorated with glyphs from a lost language of times now gone: a tetrarch, worth one hundred crowns. Of course, a monarch, worth one _thousand_ crowns alone, would’ve been much more helpful, but for a random dude in his late teens to be carrying around such heavy money, alone, at night, and then give it to a stranger – Donghyuck had been talking to a madman. A rich one, but mad all the same.

“Monarchs are an urban legend, they don’t actually exist.”

Donghyuck froze midway through admiring his coin, “Are you a whisper or am I really that drunk?”

The boy giggled – he fucking _giggled_ , there’s no other description, breathy and squeaky – as he shook his head, “Yeah, you’re pretty drunk. How long have you been here?”

The concern in his voice took Donghyuck off guard, so he answered easily ( _way_ too easily, something was definitely wrong with him and it wasn’t entirely the alcohol), “Maybe my whole life, maybe just the whole night, who knows? You’re asking a lot of questions, mystery nerd.”

“Mystery-? I’m not a- whatever, you need to go home and sleep. It’s nearly five am.”

“Don’t you want to know about my hopes and dreams,” What was he doing, this conversation was not supposed to last this long, and it certainly wasn’t supposed to be heading in this direction, “and how they got crushed in the last 24 hours?”

The boy creased his brows, silent, and Donghyuck felt a wave of heat rush over him. A fever, that was it, the cause of all his crazy ideas.

“C’mon, I don’t even know your name!”

“You don’t need to,” The reply was instant and surprisingly stern, “you haven’t told me yours either.”

“Donghyuck Lee.” What the actual fuck was he doing? “That’s the name,” and he winked, the rotten cherry on top of an already awful cake.

The boy seemed to go paler – was it really _that_ bad? – but only sighed in defeat, nodding at him. “Alright then, Donghyuck. Tell me your story.”

And so he rambled about the Feats and his loathing of them and all things Silver, how his elder siblings were on the front lines and the letter he’d gotten from them, and how his little brother was perfect and he was so, _so_ proud of all of them. Then, he got onto the storm, how good it felt to see the Silvers struck down, how horrible it felt when he heard that same storm had struck down Jeno’s instructor, leaving him jobless and ready to be plucked for the war. He continued, telling the stranger about old Pippa and Taeyong and Jaemin, though he left out the Scarlet Guard, and how his only option was to steal something valuable from Silvertown, and then how horribly that went, how Jisung’s bones snapped, a disturbing noise that sounded too much like a twig breaking on a walk in the forest.

Jisung was doomed, Jeno was doomed, his family were probably doomed, and Donghyuck had always been doomed, but now he shared that fate with everyone left that he cared about, everyone in his life that could’ve avoided that doom if it weren’t for him. He was the plague. Somewhere along the way the tears had started, and he’d landed on the floor, curling into himself as he continued the story, each word wrenching more and more tears from his body like cattle being milked.

His head hurt, his heart ached, and he was cold, so, so cold. He wished the pavement would open up the gates of hell that would swallow him whole, whisking him away and putting him in eternal torture, but he didn’t deserve that fate. That fate was too good for him.

It was almost laughable, how he could open up so freely to a total stranger, but maybe that’s what made him do it. He’d never see this boy ever again, so he had no reason not to spill everything that had been building up inside of him, finally getting rid of the poison slowly taking away his life. Perhaps that study was partly right, since all the sobbing made him feel a little better. Maybe not ‘better’, that was the wrong word. He felt… lighter.

Suddenly, the cold went away, replaced with a fierce, but only warm, heat that spread throughout Donghyuck’s body. It was soothing, lulling him into what threatened to be sleep, so he forced his eyes to open, surprised to see that the hooded boy was currently embracing him (although it was an awkward, leaning over, one-armed embrace – someone needed to teach this boy how to hug).

He whispered, low and soft and way too caring for a stranger, “Thank you for telling me this, I won’t forget about it.”

 _Well, damn right you shouldn’t, I’ve given you damn near my life story, you fucking mystery nerd who won’t even tell me your name._ “Thanks, too. Your friend was actually kinda onto something, weren’t they?”

The boy giggled again and Donghyuck found himself flinching at the noise, realising that would be the last time he ever heard that stupidly adorable sound. He would’ve loved to get a name, but it was better if he was just a stranger. (Something told Donghyuck he didn’t _want_ a name – maybe his instincts, or something else equally dumb. Probably alcohol.)

The boy finally broke apart from his odd embrace, leaving Donghyuck with that terrible cold feeling again, but even that wasn’t enough to stop what happened next. The boy’s hood fell off as he moved, and Donghyuck could’ve sworn he saw a flame go up, right before he blinked at the sudden light and realised that the boy was halfway down the street when he finally regained his sight. He didn’t even get a verbal goodbye, only a wave, as the boy pulled his hood back up, hiding nothing more than his black curls from the back of his head. Why was the boy so worried about a hood? If Donghyuck was going to recognise anyone, he was sure he could do so even if they _were_ wearing a hood, it’s not exactly a master disguise.

But the question of why the boy had been so serious about keeping his identity a secret kept floating around Donghyuck’s mind, a haunted clockwork that didn’t let him sleep, along with his mothers’ hushed weeping for their youngest child. He thought hard about the boy’s face, and weirdly felt a sense of déjà vu as he replayed it over and over in his mind. He realised that he did, in fact, recognise the boy, but why? This question kept his mind from wandering to more depressing thoughts, but he eventually came to the conclusion that he should just forget about his trip to the bar like it never happened. He should’ve been worrying about Jeno or Jisung, but sleep finally ensnared him before he could ever get round to those thoughts.

Donghyuck did not expect his wake-up call to be that of a royal summons, specifically one that told him to serve at the Hall of the Sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> m: opinionated but im always spittin straight facts  
> h: i think the fuck not  
> iM SORRY FOR ROBBING YOU OF BRATTY NA JAEMIN BC THAT WAS THE BEST PART  
> posted this tonight instead of tmrw bc i needa cram chemistry all day bc i still haven't revised haha. ha. oops  
> anyways hope u enjoyed goodnight


	3. throw the dice (let's see which head will roll)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is kinda filler-y but it's important for plot stuff  
> warning: there's a little bit of gore, but nothing in a lot of detail (im sorry dog lovers ;_;)  
> oh and the stilts are at the beach instead of a big river bc. beach better ok.

Donghyuck didn’t really know what was happening.

First, he’d been woken up by a royal summons, and at first he thought that he was finally about to be punished for his crimes, but was instead informed that he would be working at the palace. He would’ve loved to resist, but a scrawny Red like him against at least three Silvers, all trained Sentinels, didn’t leave him with any good chances of winning any dumb fight, so he obeyed. What a good little Red. The smiles of the Silvers were all crooked to him, masking their intentions, and every step he took in their path made Donghyuck’s blood boil. If only he had powers, then he could wipe those smirks right off of their faces with their own blood, sparkling as it may be. _If only._

Secondly, there hadn’t even been an explanation or simple introduction to his new job. Much to his dismay, he’d been cherry-picked to be a lowly servant, suited up in an ugly brownish red suit that itched and stank as if it hadn’t been in the wash for at least a month. He’d take rags and hand-me-downs any day over this, at least they were clean. Then again, Donghyuck had established many years ago that the Silvers didn’t care, so he guessed it was to be expected. Thankfully, there was at least one other servant who wasn’t a total doormat, afraid of uttering a single word in the tigers’ den of the palace. He was short and seemed a little cranky, and all his instructions were blunter than the cutlery at home, but still, the boy had helped. Donghyuck introduced himself, name and all, in an attempt to break the ice, seem more polite; however, the boy didn’t seem to share this sentiment, and once again Donghyuck was helped by another mystery boy.

Thirdly, he only managed to find his way about the labyrinth, and figure out what the fuck was actually happening today and why everyone seemed super on edge, because he met an all-too-chatty maid who wouldn’t shut up even if her cat – he remembered it was called Muffin – died, probably. Aria would just chat away through the burying. She, being three years older and having worked there for four years, was more than willing to fill in Donghyuck on all the details, along with the entire architectural history of the palace every time they passed a Greek pillar or double archway, which, despite their apparent acclaim, seemed common due to the fact that literally every corridor was littered with the things, and Donghyuck had to stifle the urge to spit on the floor. The buzz of cameras warned him that wouldn’t end well at all, so he just followed Aria’s advice, making sure to bother none of the Silver crowd at Queenstrial.

Fourthly, when in the fuck did his country even have time, let alone incentive, to make up such a dumb event as Queenstrial? Chivalry really must be dead, because the crown prince was apparently fine with upholding this dumb tradition, letting all these fragile ladies beat each other to near death just to see who would be the greatest shield for him to use. It was the Feats all over again, Silvers not caring about their consequences because it could all be undone with the poke of a blood healer. Donghyuck was more angry at their carelessness than the actual ‘beating each other to near death’ part, as he assumed all the ladies to be wolves anyway, but lone wolves, ready to tear each other apart for the alpha male. Donghyuck didn’t hold any sympathy for people so pathetically desperate for power, especially when the Silvers already held so much.

Upon arrival at the square, he found the endless picnic tables (with gold detailing and diamond embellishments) already filled with dining and gossiping lords and ladies, each table’s residents wearing matching colours. Blues and yellows for that family, grey scale for that one, white and purple for another – Donghyuck recognised that one as house Nathair, the whispers, and felt a shiver run through him as he searched for the man from the Feats, but never found his deep blue eyes, apparently unique from the rest of his family’s icy blue ones. For some reason, Donghyuck found himself searching for bronze eyes after that, gold intertwining with red in a sea of contained chaos, waiting for the right moment to pounce, the landing burning everything in sight. Distracted, he nearly tripped up on one of the lord’s outstretched legs (rude, even _he_ wasn’t allowed to do that, in his patchwork house with his common mothers), but managed to save himself in time to avoid the man’s pointed glare, his eyes like a steel blade waiting to cut him if he made another mistake.

The silver-haired man growled, and Donghyuck rescued himself by offering up one of the miniscule but very upper echelon snacks on his serving board, which the man snatched with a grunt, nodding for him to run away, and run away he definitely did. That house was the only house without a colour, the one in grey scale, all dark and intimidating, the only accents to their attire stitched in a ghostly white. _Don’t piss that family off_ , he made a mental note.

“What are we even doing here?” An already tipsy old lord began to rant, “We all know that bloody ice queen is going to win this thing – the nickname alone is foreshadowing enough – so _why_ are we here when I could be home sleeping?” His wife slapped him, halting his tirade, but Donghyuck couldn’t help but resonate with his want to sleep, having gotten a bare three hours last night.

He returned to the counters to pick up yet more tiny food, but Aria’s harried whispers brought him away. Just in time, as the square around them soon began to tremble. A deep voice rumbled throughout the air, no face to the sound, but Donghyuck knew it was the king. He’d overheard enough of his damn speeches to loathe the noise, and the increased hum of electricity told him he was speaking through some techie invention, saved for Silver use only. When the ground quartered and began to rise, he nearly fell face-first, but thankfully his quick reflexes from years of thieving let him grab onto the nearest thing to steady himself, Aria yelping slightly at his grip. Apologising, he turned to gape at the scene before him, the once peaceful and pretty square now transformed into a coliseum, much like the one he’d been in just two days before, but he could sense that this one held more weight and importance, despite its smaller size. Quality over quantity indeed, the sides were diamondglass – the Silvers were so loaded they made windows out of diamonds, can you imagine? – and within the indestructible fencing sparked to life a series of flickering, white-blue tendrils: an electric fence. If anyone interrupted this fight, they’d promptly be turned into a cut of bacon ready to serve.

If Donghyuck’s mouth hadn’t reached the floor before, it certainly had once the last pillar rose from the far opposite end, blooming open like some deathly flower, revealing the king and his second queen in all their horrid glory. The current king was overweight and had a scraggly beard, certainly wasn’t handsome, but was a strong ruler and an even stronger opponent. There were rumours he was the one to set the Lakelanders’ old castle aflame, killing the nymphs’ youngest daughter – and Donghyuck hated that story nearly as much as the man himself. For one thing, it was way too far-fetched to be true, and even if it was, the death of an eight-year-old girl was nothing to celebrate. _Who knows what else they did to her_ , Donghyuck wouldn’t put it past any royal to take whatever they wanted. The queen Donghyuck wasn’t very familiar with, but one glance at her stiff yet perfect posing and cold expression told him all that he needed to know.

There was another chair beside her, seating a young girl with the same cold eyes as her mother, but raven hair to match her father. Princess Rachael, young and pretty and perfect, but always in the background. Donghyuck never understood why everyone swooned over her, even other girls; then again, he’d never swooned over any girl, ever, but that was a different matter entirely. The point was, Rachael was pretty, but nothing much else. In fact, she looked bored out of her mind, perhaps a little irritated from the arch in her brows. _Wonder if there’ll be a Princetrial, too_.

On the opposite side, seated next to the king, was a young man – the prince who rarely showed his face on television, something about ‘princely duties’ and other empty excuses. Donghyuck expected the prince to be a lot meeker, like his father, who hunched away into his throne as if it were a cage; he expected the prince to be overweight and off-putting in his appearance like his father, too important to care about looks; he expected the prince to have his father’s dulled, sickly orange eyes, as if they’d seen too much wrong for any of it to matter anymore, and had long ago stopped trying to fix it.

Donghyuck was not expecting the boy who rose to stand tall and firm, strength evident in every action as he bowed and waved to the crowd below, flashing a blindingly white smile; he wasn’t expecting to see him done up almost like a doll, his hair swept up and face powdered to make him seem even brighter against the sunlight, every item of clothing fitted to perfection and detailed fashionably; he wasn’t expecting the boy to look down with a pair of glowing eyes, filled with fires of hope, their bronze colour unique among the many other superhumans in the crowd. Donghyuck barely registered a word he said, more focused on the realisation that the mystery boy from the night before had been the prince of his country, sneaking out for a drink in the middle of the night, happening to come across a thief, and then being forced to sit and listen to said thief’s depressing life story.

Donghyuck locked eyes with crown prince Mark Heizen, and wished that the floor would open up one more time so it could swallow him whole.

-o-O-o-

This time, the Queenstrial was not as brutal as prior ones. Apparently, Mark was a somewhat peaceful dude, so he’d requested that all the ladies did was put on a pageant, essentially modelling their powers. Donghyuck would’ve much preferred to watch them tear each other apart, rather than resort to frightening the crowd (and if they scared the Silvers, they all but stole the very souls of most of the innocent Red servants, Donghyuck’s included). The lack of a PvP didn’t mean there was no bloodshed or vomit-inducing scenery, however – a fact solemnly proved when a girl, surely no older than fourteen, dressed in furs, stepped into the arena. Gates opened from behind her and she whistled, beckoning a living wolf forward from the shadows, soon followed by three smaller creatures – wolf cubs. The sight of the toddlers made Donghyuck’s heart flutter – they were beautiful, and would grow up to be even more beautiful – and he had the sudden urge to throw himself into the sparkling fences below just so he could pet their fluffy coats. (He’d never gotten to see any puppies or kittens in the Stilts – breeders always kept them out of sight for at least the first three months, or else the litters wouldn’t survive.) Those warm flutters soon turned to cold ones as the girl whistled again, and something switched in the mother wolf’s demeanour.

Her ears pointed abruptly, head snapping towards her pups, all play-fighting in the field, yelping happily. Then, her ears flattened, and the crowd had gone so silent that even her low growl could be heard from where Donghyuck was hidden away with the other servants in the serving aisle. He blinked, and that was all it took for the mother to pounce, no time wasted as she tore away, silvery fur stained with red in a grotesque display, as if symbolic of the blood divide.

None were as bad as the animal controller, but there were so many more like her – brutal, with powers Donghyuck had never heard of before, that he was certain shouldn’t even be _possible_ , let alone allowed. A girl who could make things explode (the ‘things’ being the decapitated heads of Red criminals from the techie slums); a girl who could disappear and reappear (wandering about the crowds like a ghost, one that Donghyuck was sure had breathed down his neck as she made her patrol); a lady who simply stood in the centre, a line of Silver warriors ahead of her (she was blindfolded, but she dodged and deflected every attack, like she knew it all ahead of time). There were twins, who came one after the other like déjà vu, silver-haired like the man who had tripped Donghyuck up, and probably from the same family if the grey scale outfits were anything to go by. Their dresses were laced with something shiny – not silver, but iron: Donghyuck knew its unforgiving dullness, having worked at a smeltery for a couple of months before he was fired for ‘losing’ half of the stock. He thought they would be the scariest, with their identical grins, just as groomed as their impeccable top-knots, and their chilling display of just what metal could do to a man (another Red criminal, mind you). Donghyuck was wrong.

The worst was who came next. He made sure to remember her name, Morana Boreas, and her display truly was chilling – literally rather than figuratively. She was a shiver, and an expert one at that. She could freeze the moisture in the air without moving a muscle, the pretty snow foreign to Donghyuck’s beach-raised self, the blizzard that it morphed into even more frightening. _Of course_ her turn was when the servants were called out to serve lunch, so Donghyuck had been in the midst of finding his way through the maze of stockings and boots and stilettos (all of which were being worn by men as well as women, to his surprise), and he only got more lost when the snowstorm took away his vision. Now, everything was a silver-white blur, and Donghyuck didn’t know whether to keep still until it cleared or just charge ahead. His stubborn, foolish side opted for the ‘charge ahead’ option. Pompous Silver aristocrats weren’t just going to feed themselves, and Donghyuck would make sure to serve them something cold and sloppy.

The cold mist finally cleared, and Donghyuck was relieved to find that he hadn’t tripped over anyone and died yet. He served the cold and sloppy lasagnes to the jittering lords and turned to make his way back, satisfied with the scrunched-up faces the old men made as they took their first bites of the off food, clearly disgusted. Donghyuck’s smirk faded instantly when he was met by a dangerous spear of ice aiming straight at his forehead, gasping as he stumbled backwards, accidentally falling into a family’s dinner table, but just as soon as he’d realised what he’d fallen into he felt himself pushed back towards the death crystal in less than a split second. _Who the fuck allowed swifts to be a thing?_

He did not want that dumb rhetorical question to be his final thought as he teetered over the diamondglass wall and into the crackling electricity below.

He didn’t smell any sort of cooked meat smell like bacon, and there wasn’t any searing pain, and this fact combined with the shimmering crystalline sparkles floating above him convinced Donghyuck that he’d died and gone to heaven. After blinking a few times, he dismissed that idea because a failure like him would never be allowed in such a place, and he didn’t even believe in heaven in the first place. So, he sat up, a scene of gold-white streaks dancing in front of him as if performing a ballet. He tried to imagine some appropriate music, but instead found in his ears a stinging drone, ringing painfully like a siren. Shaking his head, the ringing began to fade, replaced with whispers and gasps and screams, and he suddenly realised where he was.

He was in the arena – specifically, in the electric fence.

That left a question that was also an answer – “How’s he still alive?”

Donghyuck snapped to his senses in enough time to raise his hands up, shielding himself from whatever icy spear Morana was about to impale him with; his breathing hitched as he waited for the impact, and hitched another couple more times, before he realised that the impact wasn’t coming. He lowered his hands only to see Morana throw another weapon in his face, but as he raised his hands he saw it: a flash of lightning, melting the ice before it could so much as _start_ to whistle through the air. A flash of lightning that came from Donghyuck’s hands, trailing from the protective cloak of the electric fence that was currently engulfing him.

Morana hissed, the crowd screamed, the Guards shouted – Donghyuck needed to get out of there.

Fuelled by his sudden rush of fear-provoked adrenaline, he propelled himself from the floor and belted towards the gates of the arena, where the wolves and prisoners were kept, because surely there had to be some exit from that direction or else how would they get them in there, teleportation? He had to force himself to ignore all the wide-eyed gazes of the creatures he passed – both animal and Red alike, but all stripped of their human decency by the ruthlessness of the Silvers. The people weren’t given so much as underwear. The animals were already little more than skeletons. Donghyuck was certainly going to hell.

Huffing, he managed to find an exit and barge his way through, the door so heavy he wouldn’t have been able to move it if he wasn’t being egged on by constant dread and fight-or-flight instincts. His only comfort was when he noticed he’d cut his hand, bleeding red to remind him that he hadn’t suddenly turned Silver and sprouted powers out of the blue. The first corridor he turned down proved to be littered with clamouring Sentinels, so he doubled back and headed the other way, clearing several other hallways before he was met with an array of metal doors – strange, there’d been no metal when Aria had toured him around earlier, but then again the palace was huge and- _Shit. Fuck. It’s a dead end, I’m in a dead end, I’m dead_ -

The light was stolen from the windows and all Donghyuck could see was black; all Donghyuck could hear were the yells of Sentinels preparing to kill him; all he could think of were silent apologies to his mothers, Tsubaki and Ten and Jisung, Jeno who he’d abandoned, even Mimi that little prick of a feline – his final thoughts. All he could smell was smoke. All he could feel was heat, rushing up him like a pride of lions chasing down a wounded zebra, doomed to be their next feast – exotic animals for an exotic death, not every man gets to be burned alive by royalty. He was certain it was the prince, trying to eradicate his mistake of bringing such a tragedy of a boy into the palace, saving him from the war only to be hunted for sport. Maybe he knew all this would happen and this was all just a game for him. Maybe he staged the whole thing just so he could kill him.

All Donghyuck could feel as the smoke took to his lungs and stole away his consciousness was a pair of strong arms wrapping around his waist, still warm but cool and refreshing compared to the blaze consuming his body.

“I’m sorry – this is the only way I can save you now.”

For the first time that weekend, Donghyuck felt at peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what's this? a CLIFFHANGER??   
> sorry this is being split into 2 chapters haha, but dw we get some cute interaction in the next one too  
> also my shitty timetable has me doing FOUR EXAMS on monday (then tuesday is free lmao)   
> so unless i still haven't finished art prep i'll update on tuesday next week  
> houses key:  
> burners (royals): heizen  
> whispers: nathair  
> shivers: boreas


	4. dress me up (and watch me die)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: things in bold are the queen's whispers  
> im so so sorry this is late art and maths were HELL and i needed to edit the first part of this chapter bc it was awful and tbh i still don't like it but OH WELL  
> again uhhh, slow slow slowwww burn. just another warning.

_Finally, Donghyuck’s drowning._

_Unfortunately, it’s not real – he’s falling through an ocean of memories. He might call it magical, if it was a positive experience. There’s an old fairytale about a girl who falls down a rabbit hole into another world – some say it’s a story spun from hallucinations – but this world isn’t some mad paradise; rather than a dream, it’s a nightmare._

_The story starts with small things – snippets of ugliness, so short you might miss what’s so horrid about each one, but Donghyuck never misses. At five years old, barely accustomed to his new life and family, he understands what Reds are. Flashes of the daily broadcast, flitting over mass pillages, bombings, body counts. The old reporter’s second chin wobbles as she lists the numbers mindlessly._

_Occasionally, a newspaper will get their hands on a photograph of the war’s destruction. Donghyuck doesn’t try to forget them, but he doesn’t exactly want to remember them. One image floats by: the charred remains of a teddy bear, sitting on a pile of something black tinged with red (it’s probably a corpse, but Donghyuck looks away before he can discern that for certain)._

_Those aren’t his problems, really. His problems lie deeper, as he falls past memories of him playing make-believe with other children from the village, running through the stormy rain in a game of tag, diving from the cliffs into the sea. They play side-by-side with the bombings that destroyed the orphanage, the night Ten nearly lost his leg trying to rescue Donghyuck from a fallen tree, the day he and Jeno discovered blood on the rocks underneath the cliff. Donghyuck watches as he lies to his best friend, telling him it’s a trick of the light, the natural colour of the rocks, or just an algae – all as he kicks away the tattered remains of a cardigan beneath the waters, ignoring the vibrations of bones clunking against the stone._

_Donghyuck would think he was falling into the mouth of a volcano, so he’d die by the end of it – in flames like he deserved – but the watery air gets staler the deeper he falls, cooling until it’s so viscous it might as well be frozen. He passes these visions slowly, bearing witness to every cruel detail, and while it’s not as gruesome as a lot of stuff he’s seen, the sights make his stomach churn and send up a wave of dread that sticks in his throat, suffocating. He sees Tsubaki leave, rounded up and manhandled onto a truck full of Reds scared silent – everything’s blurred and everyone’s sobbing, even Ten, and Donghyuck’s never seen him cry any time at all, and Jisung’s gotten so worked up Honey’s got him in a safe-holding hug._

_The next memory, unsurprisingly, is when Ten leaves. It’s worse. No one cries, no one speaks. No farewell. The Lee household is famous for its shamelessness, usually manifesting in the form of raucous arguments and insufferable loudness, but not on that day. It's quiet that day. Donghyuck notices the lack of noise because he shuts his eyes, opening them again to see a flash of purple in his palm. It’s Ten’s parting gift, the earring now resting in his left ear along with Tsubaki’s red one._

_Then it’s a waterfall of events, cascading down towards the present. All Donghyuck’s dumb ideas, consisting of getting into trouble off god knows what, all those one-night stands and doomed lovers, stealing instead of keeping a job just because it was easier, tossing those bodies in the ditch like he’d toss knives and letters into the ocean – always when Jeno was away, otherwise he’d never let up his character, brave and strong. The real Donghyuck was pitiful, fortunate yet still dissatisfied, and so, so needy._

_Plenty of people die in the Stilts – it's full of Reds after all – and Donghyuck knew a lot of them. He caused some, too. Like Jeno’s master – now he knew the storm that killed her was his own doing – and it’s his own fault everything went to shit. Like every other problem, it starts with him._

_It starts with gold, electric and terrifyingly alive, dancing at his fingertips._

**So, you weren’t always like this. Interesting.**

The foreign voice jolted Donghyuck out of his mind and back into the real world, where he awoke to the sight of vertical lines blocking his vision. His hands shot up instantly, the cut on his hand stinging like a burn as he stretched his fingers, but his earrings were still there. He sighed, his senses beginning to return from whatever war they’d been fighting. After blinking, he realised he hadn’t gone partially blind, he was just in a cell. (Again, fate wouldn’t bestow him the liberty of death.)

**All of your important memories are quite depressing – such a shame they’re important to you, else I could get rid of them.**

A figure approached the cell, silent as a snake, and Donghyuck was the prey. He froze as a hand reached through the bars towards him, sharp nails painted purple just scratching the side of his head, raking through his hair until he flinched. The gash from Silvertown. Recoiling, he wished for the electricity of the arena, maybe a light, even a camera; yet, there wasn’t a single wire going through that room, no subconscious buzz in the back of Donghyuck’s mind, waiting to be used. The pale hand leapt forward with more force, grabbing his arm before Donghyuck could scramble away. Still, he wasn’t caught just yet – he struggled and growled like a cornered animal, yanking his arm away from the cold hand of death.

…At least, that’s what should’ve happened, and definitely what happened in his mind, but in reality he did nothing. Instead of pulling away from the grip, his arm was leaning towards it against his will. It wasn’t just that he didn’t move, but he couldn’t. As the door opened the candlelight flickered, revealing a snow-white gown with deep purple lace decorating its cold surface – House Nathair, whispers. Gulping down his nauseating dread, he forced himself to look down at where the lady held his hand, turning it over without his permission. His eyes were free to watch as one of her claws cut open the still healing skin of his palm, but his body was held in place, unable to so much as flinch as trails of red ran across his arm.

A chill in the stale air, her voice rattled through Donghyuck’s mind, **“Fascinating…”**

“Your majesty, his highness is waiting for you in the throne room. Your children are present as well.”

The queen let go of her hold on Donghyuck’s mind, ignoring him as he collapsed.

She corrected the guard, “ _Child_.” Hissing lower, “Only one of them is mine.”

Snapping her fingers at the guard, she took up her gown and slithered out of the dungeon, the door shutting violently behind her. Parting as if they were nothing more than blades of grass, the metal bars bent to the guard’s will, and Donghyuck soon found his hands tied up in a slab of metal. He glared up at the magnetron’s face, not at all surprised to find that it was the silver-haired man who tripped him up at Queenstrial.

Once they reached the hallway, a couple more guards joined him. Instead of dark greys and blacks, one man wore white and pink while the other wore dark blue and silver, the latter of which waving his hands at each window they passed, switching the daylight on and off as if it was a lamp, all the while exchanging mumbled complaints with the magnetron. White-and-Pink didn’t speak at all, neither did he show any sign of what his powers were – but that just made Donghyuck all the more wary. His suspicion didn’t last long, though, because they soon reached their destination.

They didn’t even need to knock: the queen knew they’d arrived.

After she did a once-over of their appearances, she snapped her fingers again. “Vildred, un-cuff our guest, then out. Kouta, out. Jaehyun,” She turned to the silent one, who met her gaze with a glare for a split second before turning his head to the ground. She leered, “You’re free to stay.”

Donghyuck didn’t bat an eyelash at the sudden tension in the room, instead opting to soothe his aching wrists and bleeding palm – it could only be rich people problems, after all. He didn’t miss the _tsks_ that the two guards who were sent away made, managing to spit after them just before the door closed. Her majesty didn’t seem to mind; she was much more focused on burning holes into the door with her gaze – a shame if she had succeeded, the door was beautifully carved.

“If you eavesdrop you won’t be able to tell the tale.”

As if on cue, footsteps began to echo away from the room, while the guard – Jaehyun – let out a sharp exhale at the queen’s threat.

Blissfully not giving a fuck about the tension in the room, Donghyuck raised a brow, “And why the hell am _I_ here?”

It was not the queen who answered, but the king. However, his answer wasn’t directed at Donghyuck. “You will _not_ raise your voice at me, young lady, for my decision is final. And don’t _you_ start to defend her, son – I can tolerate one rebellious teenager but not two, never.”

“But _father_ -” And that wasn’t the voice of the princess either.

“My decision is _final_.” There was a slam, and the scent of something burning. “Isla, my dear, bring the boy in.”

Further into the room and Donghyuck realised this wasn’t a room at all; it was a hall, with a ceiling taller than any mountain he’d ever seen, with chandeliers decorated with gems brighter than any he’d ever stolen, with a set of four thrones in the back larger than he’d ever imagined. He shrank against the emptiness, latching his focus onto the people at the end: the royals. As the king sat, deflated, the princess only just slumped into her seat with a huff, and the prince remained standing, arms crossed. If Donghyuck didn’t feel like he was about to suffer a fate a thousand times worse than execution, he’d laugh at the normalcy of the royal family – a tired old dad trying to deal with his two teenage children. Except, these weren’t any old children. Each person in that room could kill Donghyuck at least a hundred different ways, all quicker than he could blink – especially the queen, who lurked behind him. He shuddered as he felt her cold hands descend onto his shoulders and squeeze, more threateningly than reassuringly, forgetting her empty words of encouragement just as soon as she’d whispered them to him.

Only when the queen had taken her place on the throne (and the king had given up on scowling at his son to make him sit down, because he was definitely losing that battle) did anyone speak. All at once, in fact, and this time Donghyuck couldn’t repress his laughter.

Bellowing, the king rose, “You think this is funny, boy?”

“Yeah, I mean, you haven’t killed me yet, so.”

The princess mumbled, “There are fates much worse than death,” as if she knew all about such things. Donghyuck scoffed again.

“Well,” The king began, sitting down again to hide in all his velvet and fur, “If you don’t care about your own life, do you care about your family’s lives? Depending on how this agreement goes, it can turn out very well for them, _or_ very badly.”

As much fun as it was to mock their self-righteousness, it wasn’t worth the death of his siblings and mothers. He almost reached up to check for his earrings again, but restrained himself: no need to look like an actual idiot in front of the monarchy. Donghyuck gulped down a retort, forcing himself to nod at the king and look only at the king. He was afraid of what he’d see in any of the others’ eyes – the queen who knew everything about him, the princess who sounded like she wouldn’t mind murdering him on the spot, or the prince who had brought this mess to the palace in the first place.

“Your… _power_ was just displayed to most of the royal court, along with every high house. Simply killing you won’t cover it up, so we’ve prepared an-” He stuttered, clearly not fully convinced with his own damn plan, “explanation.”

Before Donghyuck could even open his mouth to ask _what the fuck could explain a Red with abilities_ , the queen took the reins and elaborated for him.

“You will live as a Silver, as if you were Silver all along, but your parents found and raised you Red. You’re adopted anyway, so it’s not far from the truth. You must never bleed and you will be kept under strict watch, but we will not let you die.”

_Not until you can get away with it._

“To keep you close, you will be betrothed to my daughter, Rachael.” Only then did Donghyuck finally let himself glance up at the princess, who had her head turned to scowl at the pillars. “Do you agree to these terms?”

He hummed, and could sense the way the king tensed at his nonchalance. The palace had cameras and guards hidden in every nook and cranny anyway, it couldn’t be hard _not_ to get injured in the royal palace, and he didn’t really care about the princess – she could start her own affair for all he cared, and one day she probably would (if Donghyuck hadn’t been assassinated by then). With any luck, he could stretch his own bargain too. How hard could it be to lie for a living?

Despite the stinging in his palm and his rising headache, he straightened his back and met the king’s tired gaze, “I have my own terms before I can agree.”

Waving his hand to go on, the king sank further back into his throne, the queen also leaning back to take in whatever demands he was about to make.

Sweating slightly, Donghyuck became very aware of a different pair of bronze eyes burning into his head – _ignore it, focus_. “I want my caretakers, Honey Lee and Sapphire Patch, to live easy lives, with money.”

“Done.” That was surprisingly easy.

“And,” Donghyuck licked his chapped lips, trying to distract himself from the fire drilling into the side of his head, “I want all of my siblings to come home from the war, and never go there again. That includes Jisung, and I want my friend Jeno to be safe too.”

“Done.” The king seemed bored.

Either the king didn’t care, or it all didn’t matter. Maybe he’d live up to his word, maybe he wouldn’t, _but at least you tried_.

Inhaling deeply, he finally bowed his head, “Then I agree to your terms.”

The fire finally left the side of his head.

-o-O-o-

_General Haneul of House Beryl and his wife, Lady Blaise of House Terran, died during the war effort, when their camp was attacked and pillaged by Lakelanders. They were thought to have left no heir behind, and so that was the end of House Beryl. However, fleeing Red soldiers found a baby in the rubble, and couldn’t leave it behind. This baby grew up thinking he was Red, only to arrive in the Hall of the Sun on the day of Queenstrial and discover that he was Silver. The storms of House Beryl and oblivions of House Terran combined their strengths to give birth to a new power, one that could wield electricity._

“Today is blessed with much good news, as today marks the day we witness the revival of House Beryl.”

Queen Isla’s voice echoed across the great hall, this room somehow even larger than the throne room. It made Donghyuck shiver. His new robes itched, nearly as much as the makeup pasted all over his face – to make him look lighter, look Silver. It wasn’t yet time for him to waltz out and parade himself as the queen’s new pet, so at least he could simmer with his anger for a while, maybe it would boil over as he took his side by the princess. Remembering her earlier behaviour, he dreaded having to stay so close to her for the rest of his life. Hopefully the queen wouldn’t make that last too long; he’d rather drink poison than live another day in these itchy dark viridian robes with their dumb golden embroidery (it was definitely real gold, and apparently Donghyuck was allergic). At least he got to keep his earrings, the only things that didn’t feel foreign – though he’d had to practically bite the maids’ hands so they’d stay away.

His violent scratching was stopped when he felt a warm hand place itself on his arm, boiling compared to his own cold skin. Whipping round, Donghyuck found himself face-to-face with the mystery boy again, except this time he knew the boy’s name, and that he was a prince.

“Hey, you good?” Mark’s voice was too soft, too laced with concern, and it made Donghyuck decide not to pull away.

He shrugged, “Yeah, it’s just I might be allergic to pure gold, which is all over these sleeves because apparently House Beryl were so rich they could just sew actual gold into their clothes.”

“We do have windows made of diamonds.” He stated it so easily, like pointing out the sky was blue.

Donghyuck scoffed, “Of _course_ , how on earth could I forget, every time the sun shimmers I get blinded.”

The beginnings of a smile crossed Mark’s face, breaking that mask he’d prepared for the audience outside. “You should probably get used to it – House Beryl owned the overseas mines, where most of the precious stones come from, so a lot of the clothes will be… itchy.”

Itching absent-mindedly, he hummed, “I’m sure the healers can cure a rash, _they’re_ actually Silver, after all.”

This time Mark’s other hand stopped Donghyuck’s scratching, forcing him to look up with a glare that melted all too soon. “Are you sure it’s an allergy?”

Donghyuck’s glare returned, and the prince quickly corrected himself, “I mean, back when we first met, you were scratching yourself then. I think it might be a nervous tic?”

_Oh, you think? Where are all the scratch marks then, genius?_

“But you were scratching your knees because you were, like, curled up.”

“Oh.” Suddenly feeling very guilty about his mental outburst – which had definitely translated into his expression, judging by the way Mark seemed to shrink away slightly – Donghyuck shook his head. “I thought those were just grazes – it’s part of life in the Stilts, see, constant grazed knees.”

“You won’t have them anymore though.”

“Yeah, I’ll miss those little buggers.” And then the thought hit him like a boomerang – the question he’d wanted to ask ever since he’d realised Mark was the prince. “Why did you give me a job at the palace, anyway?”

“Um,” Mark’s face went slightly paler, “Well, first, I sneak out so I can get to know the people better – I’m gonna be their king, and no one else here actually cares about any of that stuff, so I decided I’d see it for myself. Things around here are way worse than the capital, and I told myself the next person I saw suffering so badly I’d try and rescue.”

Raising a brow, Donghyuck prodded, “And I was the next person?”

“I guess, but you’re the first person I’ve done this for in a while.”

“Ah, bet you’re regretting that now. I’m definitely the last.”

It was common sense, not just logic, and it left Donghyuck feeling uncharacteristically bad for the people who could’ve been saved if he hadn’t turned out to be a freak. However, when he tried to pull away, the prince’s grip only hardened.

He whispered, “You won’t be the last, and I don’t regret my decision.”

He let go, and it took Donghyuck an embarrassingly long moment to notice that the itch had disappeared. It was cold without Mark’s grip, the air piercing through the thin silk of Donghyuck’s ridiculous robes, leaving him shivering. Too busy trying not to stare longingly at the prince’s warm hands, he barely noticed the long stretch of silence that had grown between them.

Awkwardly, Mark coughed, breaking the silence, “Um, you look nice.”

Snapping back into his usual confidence, Donghyuck responded to the compliment with a retort, “Why thank you, this outfit reminds me of the hookers we had at the local brothel. The guys, not the birds, if we’re being specific.”

On cue, the prince sputtered, not sure how to respond, paling at the speed of light. “I- you- um,”

Donghyuck couldn’t help but cackle at his reaction, “Don’t worry, I’m not a desperate kinda guy, I never hired any of ‘em, though they all tried to hire me, if you know what I mean,”

“No, no, I really…” He inhaled deep, calming himself, but still bright white, “don’t.”

Donghyuck’s laughter cut off as he noticed how pale Mark had gone. “It was a _joke_ , seriously, you look like I just murdered a child in front of you.”

“What?”

“You look like a ghost- you look _pale_.”

“Oh.” He shook his head violently, going even whiter than should be possible, “No, it’s the silver colour, it’s-” He fumbled, fiddling with the hem of his shirt, voice quietening, “it’s a Silver blush, actually.”

“Huh,” was all Donghyuck could manage to reply.

Then again, louder, but in his head. _That explains a lot._

Before his own blush could begin to rise, he heard the queen’s cue. With a quick bow to the prince, he snatched his opportunity to leg it out of there, not processing the gasps and exclamations of the crowd until he had power-walked halfway down the runway. Dozens of eyes glittering with a combination of powder and wonder all fixed on his malnourished figure, dressed up like a voodoo doll; he wondered who would feel his pain if he was pinched, deciding that his own pain wouldn’t matter because of the healers. None of the crowd suspected a thing – they’d never seen him bleed. His gash from the day before had been covered by his fringe, and all his wounds were healed by the silent guard Jaehyun earlier.

For all they knew, he was one of them. Just more proof of their ignorance. It made his skin crawl, the thought of having to smile and chat with these dressed up demons, always on guard for the slightest threat that could draw blood. Forcing himself to stand still, not scratch, was the only thing keeping Donghyuck’s mind away from the sinking weight threatening to drown him. Things had been so easy, he should’ve opened his eyes sooner, rather than rely on his ears. Donghyuck had always been told he had a good eye, that’s why he was such a good thief, but what use is a talent if you don’t use it? If he had, he would’ve seen the den of snakes he was walking into, each one so venomous that a single bite would be the end.

Forcing a smile as he held Rachael’s hand was a lot harder than he expected, and harder to maintain as the queen announced the engagement. He managed to hold it as Morana was deemed the winner of Queenstrial, but it finally dropped when she took the prince’s hand.

He would be dead before the first fallen leaves of autumn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tldr: hyuck's in deep shit  
> but WOOOO we finally got a proper conversation!!  
> and ye the arranged marriages tag isn't for markhyuck lol  
> houses key-  
> storms (hyuck): beryl  
> burners (royals): heizen  
> whispers: nathair  
> oblivions: terran  
> blood healers: jung


	5. talking in circles (got me dizzy like a merry-go-round)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me + update schedule = MATH ERROR  
> also we’re ignoring how much longer all these chapters are getting haha  
> (sorry it's more exposition ;_;)

_Haechan._

His fourth day living as a Silver, and Donghyuck still wasn’t used to the alias. _That’s not my name_ , he wanted to scream at every person who called him, barely holding in whatever spark about to burst from his palms. Funny, how his power didn’t want anything to do with him when he was running for his life, but it comes back to pull tricks on him now when he wished he never had such a power in the first place. His fourth day and the country’s leading researchers still hadn’t figured out why Donghyuck had this power. At least his room was nice – one good thing amidst all the bad. It was all his, too; the king and queen were still adamant about their dumb traditions in keeping the male and female races separate.

By now, Donghyuck had grown accustomed to his schedule. His dumb fucking schedule.

_0500 – Reveille._ He’d wake up, thanks to Aria’s morning harassment, and trudge over to his wardrobe (a separate room entirely so he wasn’t sure it still qualified) where another array of maids awaited him, paints and brushes and powders at hand. The makeup was itchy and _wrong_ , and he wished it would wash off but even as it rained the stubborn paleness remained.

_0530 – Protocol, A. Sakura_. God, he hated those. Lady Sakura was his tutor, a plastic-looking skin healer – he only discovered her self-healing abilities when he had gotten so groggy that he took the very fork she was teaching him how to use (as if he was that stupid, it’s a _fork_ , you stab things with it and eat) and drove it into her lap. She plucked it out like a strand of grass. If she’d been a bitch before, now she was a nightmare.

_0800 – Breakfast_. The only incentive to sit through two and a half hours of pure, unbridled pain. He found this to be the only relaxing part of the day – aside from sleeping – since he mostly spent it in privacy, sometimes joined by Rachael or the queen.

Fortunately, he was currently sat at the dining table (which was larger than the area of his old house), waiting for dinner and attempting to make himself ‘presentable’, as Lady Sakura had been trying to teach him. A snicker escaped the girl sitting next to him, making him imagine what he currently looked like: ridiculous. He’d barely broken posture when the queen snapped her fingers at them. _Is laughing inappropriate now?_

Donghyuck’s view, where he could perfectly drill a hole through Isla’s head with his eyes, was abruptly blocked by a large crystal bowl, filled with multi-coloured blobs of all shapes and sizes. One yellow object in particular looked quite rude, and almost made him corpse again.

Rachael must have sensed his bewilderment, because she quickly said, “That yellow thing you’re ogling at is a banana, it’s a fruit, _not_ what you were probably thinking.”

He picked it up and waved it around, “Like an apple?”

A different familiar voice sounded from the opposite side of the room, “Technically, a banana is a type of berry.”

Mark’s voice was gravelly and his hair was unkempt, his hands clutching a cup of something dark that stunk out the whole room. Briefly, Donghyuck wondered if blood healers could cure stomach aches, because all this exotic Silver food probably wouldn’t go down well with his used-to-meat-and-potatoes digestive system. Either way, it was nice to see the prince in person for once, instead of a single fleeting glimpse through the windows. The ruffled, just-got-out-of-bed, only _slightly_ cute appearance was simply a bonus.

“Yes, and a berry is a fruit, so I’m still right.” Then Rachael whispered so only Donghyuck could hear, “Smartass.”

Lady Sakura’s lessons forgotten and thrown away, Donghyuck smirked and turned to the prince, shocked to find their eyes locking for a split second before Mark turned away. Maybe it was the rising sun, but Donghyuck swore his face went slightly paler. As suddenly as he’d appeared, Mark hurried out of the room, probably late for some meeting.

Rachael hummed as she took a banana and began to peel its sides, “You certainly scared him off.”

“It’s my special skill.” He took a banana for himself, a distraction from thoughts of the prince. “So, you can’t eat the skin on these?”

“Well,” The princess scrunched her face up, no longer the perfect belle, “you can try, but I’ll warn you it tastes like shit.”

“ _Rachael_.” The queen’s voice was stern, forcing her daughter to shrink away into her chair and mumble an apology.

_Edit: 0800 – Breakfast_. If the queen was present, the morning would be shitty.

Donghyuck knew better by now not to scowl at the queen directly; she’d know his anger, and let her know for all he cared, but if he took action on it then he’d receive a punishment. Last time, he missed out on combat training, instead having to waste another lovely evening with his etiquette tutor. As suffocating as his schedule was on its own, he’d rather attend the fights this time – they seemed to be the only fun thing around the entire palace, its golden arches and marble tiles all washed out and grey compared to the liveliness that the Stilts had been.

Frustratingly, it was all Donghyuck could do to trust the king’s word that his family were safe, including Jeno. He was even starting to miss Mimi and all the Satanism associated with her. He longed for training also because it was his only opportunity to breathe fresh air, aside from the brief passages through courtyards; his room’s ocean view was torturous, surely another one of the queen’s evil machinations just to infuriate him further. At least half of the royal family seemed nice – the children, to be exact. Well, teenagers, to be _exact_ exact, but that’s just a fancy name given to people too young to be adults but too old to avoid consequences. It was confirmed days ago that Mark was a good person, as good as he probably could afford to be in his position, and Donghyuck had grown to see Rachael as decent as well.

All too soon, breakfast came to an end – or rather, was brought to an end by the appearance of Jaehyun. He signalled to the queen, and she announced that it was past schedule; Donghyuck should’ve been at his lessons. He rolled his eyes, Rachael whispering a small encouragement as he moved to join his annoyingly mute guard. He glared up at Jaehyun, who only blinked and turned away. It hurt his pride enough that he had to be led everywhere like some invalid, but the fact his personal guard didn’t even speak to him was just plain _rude_. Instead of clinging to that anger, Donghyuck reminded himself of what he had next.

Today, his schedule was slightly different.

_0830 – Studies, D. Kim._ He’d never heard of a House Kim, but then again he didn’t know that there were even two types of healers until a couple of days ago when he confirmed Lady Sakura was the second, much creepier type. He groaned inwardly at his miniscule knowledge of Silver life, picking up pace so he’d get to whatever lesson this was meant to be a little quicker, get it over and done with.

-o-O-o-

The room was a whole library, and a fresh change of scenery compared to the scented candles of most rooms or cold emptiness of the halls and corridors. Donghyuck ran his hand across the spines of the books, each one worn and weathered, revelling in the scent of old paper; it reminded him of Jisung, his room cluttered with the darn things. The room had a certain ambience, calm compared to the rest of the palace, _safe_. Quickly, he realised it was because of the lack of any buzzing, drilling away in the back of his head; this room had no electricity, no lights, no cameras. It was the first time he’d felt free within the confines of his new identity.

The peace was broken by a man’s voice, “I see you’re enjoying yourself. Book lover?”

Donghyuck whipped around at the sound, a young man standing between another pair of bookshelves. _Has he been here this whole time?_ _Creep_. “No, my brother- adopted brother is.”

“Ah, and you were thinking of him?”

“Yes.” He shifted uncomfortably, unused to the open friendliness of an adult Silver. “I actually can’t read, but I assume that’s what you’re supposed to teach me.”

“Ah, yes, sorry – I got a bit distracted – my name is Dongyoung Kim, but you can call me Doyoung. I’m your new…” He turned to squint at the ceiling for a second, and Donghyuck let his hackles drop; this guy was an old man at twenty-something, clearly not a threat, “ _teacher?_ I think- yes, I think that’s the best way to put it.”

“So,” Donghyuck made his way over to a big cushion-like chair, plopping down on it as he asked, “what’s the deal with your House? Never heard of a ‘Kim’, plus your colours – there was no rose gold on the tapestry.” Aria mentioned it had every high House embroidered into it – unless he’d been assigned a common Silver?

The man – Doyoung – scoffed, “Well, you are new. Most people can tell just by looking, but that’s certainly not the original tapestry. If anything, it’s not even two decades old.”

Not really interested in a cranky elder’s rant, Donghyuck hurried for a different answer, “What are your powers?”

Doyoung paused mid-breath, turning to stone for a moment before the spell broke and he sighed, falling back on a bookcase. “I- we used to be singers – as in, that was what we were called. It’s similar to a whisper, only it comes without the telepathy, with the added effect of amnesia-”

“I literally have _no idea_ what any of that means.”

“-I can control minds and then make people forget what I made them do.”

“Oh.” Oh… _shit_.

His intuition had been right.

“Wait-” but Doyoung’s objections were drowned out by the sirens ringing in Donghyuck’s head.

He bolted towards the door, past the wire-barren walls and eerie absence of camera buzz, knocking over at least one bookcase and a couple other stacks of papers, missing Doyoung’s outstretched hands by a hair. Ignoring his supposed teacher’s protests, he leapt over the last stretch towards the doors, slipping on the rug and landing face-first on the expensive-looking stitchwork. His heart raced as he glanced backwards, seeing Doyoung gaining on him – he was _so close_ to the exit, but by the time he could get up and open it, Doyoung would have caught him. So, Donghyuck rolled away, towards the other man, and grabbed his legs, tripping him over. He took his opportunity and rose before Doyoung could try anything against him, pivoting so he was back to facing the door, only to smack his head on a rock hard chest.

Jaehyun’s scowl was harsher than his grip, but Donghyuck made it worse by struggling like a fox in a snare – it was Doyoung’s next shout that halted everything: “Donghyuck!”

“Wha- _how_ \- I-I mean, that’s not…” His head nodded back and forth between the pair of men, eyes wide as he tried to shrink away, but Jaehyun’s hold prevented him from succeeding.

Getting up in about five hilariously slow stages, Doyoung’s sigh morphed into a groan, “By my colours, Mark wasn’t exaggerating when he said he needed help- I mean,” He seemed to flush when he noticed Jaehyun’s glare fixated on him rather than Donghyuck, who was also glaring at him but without the intimidation, “I completely planned for all of this.”

It seemed that Jaehyun would remain silent, so Donghyuck voiced his complaints and hoped they were shared, “It would’ve helped if you hadn’t gotten rid of all the cameras like some creep – plus your power? That shit _reeks_ of shady,”

His guard began to nod slowly in agreement, Doyoung’s jaw dropping at the sight, “ _Oh_ my- I didn’t know you could _sense_ electricity- that’s not normal! It’s not like storms can predict the weather any better than a meteorologist, or nymphs can locate water in a desert-”

“Okay but how the fuck do you know who I am?”

Jaehyun finally let go of Donghyuck, but only to move his hand to his lips to form a ‘shush’ sign with his index finger, to which Donghyuck rolled his eyes as Doyoung answered exasperatedly, “As the dumb little prince’s cousin, I’m obliged to help fix his problems. Also,” He added when Donghyuck’s scowl began to turn intimidating, “who in their right mind would pass up the chance to observe such a rare specimen in person?”

“Huh?” Donghyuck stepped forward as Jaehyun let out a disapproving huff behind him. “So Mark sent you? And you only agreed because you wanted a fun new pet?”

“No, no, you keep jumping to the worst conclusions!” Doyoung’s increasingly frustrated state might’ve been funny if Donghyuck hadn’t honestly felt like he was about to be assaulted earlier. “Mark told me your name, yes, but that was before the whole, you know, _zip-zap_ and all, and afterwards I knew you’d be a hassle and decided to volunteer my help – with the aid of Renjun and his skill in altering all the schedules – and yes I also want to study you, but in a way that benefits _you_ as well.”

Arms folded and chin tilted down, Donghyuck muttered, “And how would it benefit me?”

“Well, we can always just read books if you’d prefer, but I was thinking you could practise actually _using_ your powers.”

“Wait, you mean like shooting lightning at stuff and blowing it up?” At his nod, Donghyuck broke into a fit of embarrassed laughter. “You know you could’ve led with that, right?”

“Yes, I think I should have.” Doyoung smiled back, and Donghyuck didn’t miss the way Jaehyun’s lips also curled up.

_Edit: 0830 – Studies, D. Kim._ He wasn’t learning how to read or plan battles (that would be scattered here and there); he was learning how to use his powers.

(He also didn’t miss the charged stares the two Silvers shared across the room as he messed with whatever battery or bulb he was trying to explode – and Jaehyun’s constant silence was the loudest thing since all Donghyuck’s incredulous yelling.)

-o-O-o-

_1200 – Luncheon_. This time it passed quickly, consisting of a lone Haechan dodging questions from the old nobles who still remembered what his supposed parents used to be like – apparently, they were completely and utterly the opposite of him. He barely survived the prying questions, especially from the head of House Emira, an old crone who had served Norta’s secret intelligence. Survival, he managed, but not without a few deep wounds. Any other situation, and having brown eyes would be perfectly normal – it’s only these over-powered Silvers who had red and yellow and grey eyes.

_1300 – Training, J. Lent_. At least he’d made it, and all without bumping into any antagonists.

He did bump into a tall, handsome, but annoying swift – but then again all swifts were annoying. He didn’t seem to notice ever even touching Donghyuck, instead rambling on to some other girl with impeccable posture that Donghyuck was sure would make Lady Sakura drool at the sight. Responding to their ignorance with his own, he set his sights on finding some other form of ally to cling to during training.

This became a problem, as he barely knew anyone apart from the prince and princess – of which Donghyuck could clearly see Mark from the entrance, but didn’t dare go over to him because one: Morana was nearby, watching like a vulture; two: he didn’t want to cause suspicion as to how he was so randomly familiar with the crown prince; and three: Mark looked dangerously attractive in the tight-fitting training outfit, which was compulsory, otherwise Donghyuck was sure that it would be much more practical to wear something loose and comfortable to move in and nobody would wear the sinful things. He made a mental note to ask who designed those suits later, and fry their hands off so they can never make any ever again (but only after he’d thanked them because _wow_ , they truly did wonders for Mark’s lean figure).

Snapping fingers brought Donghyuck out of his daze, turning to see his other known ally. Rachael looked half confused, half worried, “Are you okay? You were staring pretty hard at the wall.”

“It’s the only thing I trust to be around in this palace anymore, after _you_ abandoned me.”

“I have royal duties too!”

Donghyuck gave her a look.

“That _don’t_ consist of babysitting you.”

He hummed, unconvinced, even with the princess’s pout – still, he didn’t stray from her side, fearing he’d be left alone and forced to train with a foreign enemy. Doyoung had taught him as much as he could in three hours, and he was half-convinced he could muster a tiny sparkle of lightning if he was plugged to a battery, but there were no batteries on this field, not even a single wire, and a small spark wouldn’t exactly win a battle unless he was facing a nymph. The probability of that was very low, as the royal family had erased most of the high nymph bloodlines due to conspiracies about the Lakelanders, who had nymph royals. Now, there was a single nymph House remaining, and Donghyuck had never seen any member of said House. _Maybe they got rid of that one too._

Fortunately for him, the session began with simple combat training: no powers. The silencers of House Lent, with their dull grey colours, set up post at each corner of the field, making sure not a single student could use their abilities. It was like a dead horse suddenly dropping into Donghyuck’s arms, and he was forced to move and fight while carrying the rotting corpse, its scent sickening and its bulk awkward around his movements. Needless to say, Donghyuck lost every mock battle he had with Rachael. A valiant attempt was no match against pure skill. Rachael was a considerate winner, though, and never condescended him even after his most embarrassing defeats, as Donghyuck caught sight of other Silvers doing to their partners. Against his better will, his eyes drifted to another pair of bronze ones, although they were fixed on Mark’s own opponent: the annoying swift from earlier.

With Mark’s power, he didn’t really need to learn every ancient martial art in order to win (he could just burn a path of blood through the ground), but a swift would still need some knowledge of hand-to-hand combat if they wanted to be useful on the battlefield – they were fast buggers, but they didn’t have super strength. So, Donghyuck was surprised to see the prince clearly winning every single round, the swift only laughing as he took Mark’s outstretched hand after falling to the ground. Okay, so maybe the future head of the entire country would be great in a fist-fight, and Donghyuck shouldn’t have been surprised at all, but his mind soon wandered into more hazardous thoughts as he continued to watch the two boys beat each other down, hair darkening and curling with sweat, muscles rippling beneath the way-too-tight training outfits. Gulping, he definitely needed to electrocute the guy who designed those, maybe even the guy who made them, and probably the guy who green-lit them.

Rachael groaned beside him, once again pulling Donghyuck out of his thoughts, “I still don’t get it. Lucas is never gonna win, why does he bother?”

Donghyuck allowed himself to have one last look at the two boys, working on his own perspective of the fight that was more than _‘that’s pretty hot’_ and different from Rachael’s prejudiced _‘thanks I hate it’_ – he settled with, “Well, they look like they’re having some _actual_ fun, which is more than I can say about most other pairs, ours included.”

She turned to him with a mock look of betrayal, complete with a melodramatic gasp, “But _darling_ , it’s not _my_ fault you’re awful at fisticuffs.”

His own colourful retort was cut off when the head trainer called for everyone’s attention. He was the head of House Lent, further reining in everyone’s attention as he dialled up the effects of his silencing ability, the heavy weight worsening to a constant ache across every inch of muscle. He announced that it was finally time to use their abilities, facing off in a one-on-one, each match cherry-picked by the head himself. 

-o-O-o-

The first fight was between a greenwarden and a silk – the latter of which was the girl that Lucas had been nattering to like an old lady, the one with perfect posture. Perhaps Donghyuck should start paying more attention to Lady Sakura’s lessons, because the silk girl definitely beat the other boy down within an inch of his life, all the weeds in the world wouldn’t have been enough to save him from her catlike reflexes, each kick and scratch perfectly aimed and consistent. Head Lent even commented on her incredible battle stance, droning on about core strength and its importance, but Donghyuck was more occupied with trying to ignore the silk girl’s deathly stare; she was part of House Emira, after all. The whole House were probably spies, _and they probably helped cause the demise of all those nymph Houses._

Hopefully, they wouldn’t get to cause the demise of Haechan.

Glad for a change in subject, Donghyuck found himself paying even more attention to the next couple of fights: an eye versus a shadow – the eye won; a strongarm versus a stoneskin – the strongarm won; a burner versus a magnetron – that was the one Donghyuck was most focused on. After all, it was the prince himself against the infamous Vildred. Donghyuck didn’t bother remembering every person who’d ever had anything to do with him, but he remembered this guy: the mean one from the crowd at Queenstrial, who had let him out of his cage before his meeting with the king, who he now knew as Rachael’s stalker. He’d caught them arguing in dark corridors on the occasion, but each time held a common factor: he was too close. The fact was clear in Rachael’s blue-eyed reflection as her glare shook – with anger or fear, Donghyuck hadn’t known which – and now the man often left Donghyuck with threatening comments each time they crossed paths. _Talk about a nuisance._ Was this _really_ his romantic competition?

Donghyuck only wanted to see the smirk wiped off of the magnetron’s face, nothing more, he convinced himself as he watched Mark take control of the battle. Even with five days of knowing the boy, Donghyuck knew that the fight could’ve been ended within the first five seconds easily, and Mark was being considerate for stretching out the battle so Vildred appeared to have the advantage at certain times, only to twist his flames back and melt every daggered shard of metal that he’d created. Still, the fight didn’t even last two minutes before the magnetron had to surrender, his hands ruined by vengeful molten iron and blood healers swarming around him.

As much as Donghyuck wished he could be as apathetic as Rachael beside him, who was struggling to hide her wicked grin at the sight of her stalker bawling like a spoiled toddler, he couldn’t help but apprehend the ease with which the prince had won the battle – not to mention the damage he could’ve caused if there’d been no healers present. Shifting his feet, he realised just how naïve he’d been, treating the prince – the future head of this country – as just some nerdy rich kid. He was dangerous, and even the shy smile he flashed Donghyuck after his fight finished wouldn’t change that fact. _Don’t fall for it_.

Thankfully, the next fight was dealt with quickly – so short that it shocked everyone. Everyone apart from Donghyuck, _it’s Morana, what did you expect? A pretty little dance like Mark?_ The ice queen was nowhere near as tactful in her display of strength.

Then the final battle came, a burner against a nymph. Donghyuck hadn’t known what put Rachael on edge when Head Lent called out her opponent, but she quickly filled him in on the fact that House Zhong were the surviving nymphs.

“Who has the advantage?” Head Lent crooned from his pedestal, savouring his moment to scour the royals as he could.

A chorus of answers replied, each reluctantly favouring the nymph. Rachael shifted next to Donghyuck, so he squeezed her hand in silent reassurance, breaking contact when an all too familiar heat swam towards them.

Snaking through the crowd, Mark looked as if he was about to hurtle into some over-the-top discussion of what Rachael’s tactical plans should be, but he stopped himself; instead he only said one thing: “Prove them wrong.”

Donghyuck was even more surprised to find that he did in fact know the nymph boy, and Jisung knew him even better. Chenle looked just as chipper as he had been the day Silvers murdered a few dozen innocent Reds in the streets, focused on saving Jisung and his fuck-up of a brother instead of the melted remains of civilians pooling in the potholes. _Small world?_

This time, he was ignoring the glares of the surrounding Silver crowd by focusing on his opponent, the princess. For the most part, it seemed as if Rachael had the upper hand, succeeding in pushing Chenle back into a corner, despite the power disadvantage – however, the tables quickly flipped, and soon Rachael was trapped in a bubble of water, drowning. Chenle released her not long after, and it was all she could do to admit defeat. Water put out fires, and Rachael could’ve never proved that wrong.

Yet, the crowd didn’t so much as cheer or even clap when Chenle’s victory was announced, instead falling into accusatory glares and even a few hushed boos and whispers. The Silvers had so many self-esteem issues that a lone nymph was enough to piss them off, Donghyuck assumed just by breathing, nevertheless winning a battle against one of the royal family. Then again, even his uneducated self could understand the political symbolism of the fight, and silently agreed that the boy should’ve pretended to lose. But in the end, it really wasn’t his problem. His House had survived this long, there must’ve been some reason it was still standing.

With that, the session was finished, and the Silvers parted ways. Donghyuck made sure to stick to Rachael’s side amidst the sea of people, not prepared for Mark’s sudden presence at his side. His bright greeting and smile caught him even more off guard, but what took the cake was Rachael’s sudden outburst.

“I don’t need your lectures.” Was all she spat before dragging Donghyuck away with her, away from the prince, who Donghyuck was sure could’ve only meant well, picturing his puppy-like demeanour as he was led further in the opposite direction.

He mentally smacked himself at the thought – _great, now I’m siding with the prince_. He should’ve sided with Rachael, both for his own wellbeing and out of pure common sense, seeing as they were meant to be betrothed and all that. Frowning, he also realised that he knew Rachael’s spiteful anger and jealousy all too well. A perfect brother, and a disappointment of a sibling. He couldn’t imagine how much worse it was for people of their status – rich people didn’t have problems like disease and poverty to distract from family issues.

-o-O-o-

_1700 - Dinner_. This was spent alone with the queen. It was also silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly this thing was a bitch to write i rewrote the whole thing like twice lmaoooo we cri  
> im so sorry everything is so LONG idk how to condense (next chapter should be rlly short tho)  
> (+morana’s fight is just the todoroki vs sero fight from heroaca that’s it that’s the inspo)  
> -  
> also: originally evangeline’s character was split up into morana and vildred, with morana carrying her better characteristics and vildred with the bad shit, but I cut out vildred’s role for the most part. he’s just a nuisance, basically.  
> -  
> houses key-  
> storms (hyuck): beryl  
> burners (royals): heizen  
> whispers: nathair  
> singers: kim  
> nymphs: zhong  
> blood healers: jung  
> skin healers: sakura  
> shivers: boreas  
> silks: emira  
> silencers: lent


	6. a shooting star i see (a vision of ecstasy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is a v short chapter, it had to be this way bc i cut all the stuff around it but it doesn't fit with the next chapter (or the last one), so it's all alone and tiny :(  
> originally i was going to do a double post or post like 2 days in a row bc it's so short but my week has been kinda shitty and i haven't edited the next chapter,,   
> i also had to completely rewrite this bitch, it was all the wrong characterisation bc I wrote it on a hot leaf water high at like midnight on a Tuesday sooo rip  
> (so much effort for less than 1k of stuff... cri)

Rustling curtains and slamming drawers were the closest thing Donghyuck received to an alarm clock, waking up in the middle of the night to a muttering figure on the far end of his room. Half convinced this was some weird dream, and otherwise too tired to be bothered, he simply continued to lie and watch the stranger rummage around his near-empty room, fascinated by the weird language he seemed to be talking to himself in. There was a string of probably-curses as the stranger – a boy about Donghyuck’s age, by his estimates – grappled with a certain cupboard, heaving and whining as he pulled and the door didn’t budge. It took him near a century to figure out that he’d been pulling the wrong side the whole time, at which point he gave up on snooping on the contents in favour of smacking his head against the door with a very loud bang; Donghyuck had watched all this with knowledge that the strange boy had been pulling the wrong side, and had done nothing.

However, afraid that another loud bang might alert a guard if this really wasn’t a dream, Donghyuck had to interrupt, “Hey, you, hello?”

There was the sound of clothes shuffling as the boy turned to him, though there was no reply; there was a nagging sense that whoever this kid was had just given Donghyuck a massive eye-roll. Promptly, the stranger returned to scavenging through his belongings.

At this point, Donghyuck felt it appropriate to at least sit up, if only to glare at the boy – this was the first time he wished he had freaky Silver eyes that glowed in the dark, like Mark’s (though that was probably more of a burner thing than a Silver thing). “Uh, no-name? Mr _Can’t-Open-A-Door_ \- wait, how did you even get in here?”

The boy snapped back in something foreign and hissy, but quickly switched into Nortan, “-fake security, all propaganda, such a useless war held by useless pricks, don’t even think of sealing windows – oh, the drafts!”

Blinking as his eyes began to adjust to the dark, making out the boy in a cloak, hood covering a quarter of his face, the next quarter by a long fringe, Donghyuck struggled to process the sudden string of words, “Whoa, hold on- you broke in through the window? With all the spikes and the diamondglass?”

“Diamond?” Donghyuck could even see how the boy’s face scrunched up in response, blowing a raspberry. “Ugh, ‘diamond is unbreakable’ – what has education become?”

“Non-existent,” He couldn’t resist mumbling under his breath.

“Terrible, terrible,” The boy kept muttering until an abrupt pause. He ran a hand over the window pane, then turned back to face Donghyuck, a smile visible in the darkness. “But very pretty.”

Now it was Donghyuck’s turn to scrunch his face up, because _what the hell is going on,_ which he voiced in a yell, adding more and more questions to the pile. “Who are you? Why are you here? Hell, _please_ let this be a dream-”

Instead, the boy kept on talking about diamond – or Donghyuck? – Well, he said, “Diamond is pretty inside, and inside you. But it is not unbreakable, so be careful with your crystals.” At Donghyuck’s frustrated squeak, his face dropped to a scowl, shushing him. “Listen. You will regret it if you do not-”

“Then _explain!_ ” His growl was much louder than he’d meant, so he took a deep breath and brought it back, “Properly.”

“I see the future – not like those silly eyes, close your mouth before I get offended – and I am here to deliver your prophecy.”

Donghyuck shook his head: definitely dreaming, but hey – he might as well play along and see what his stressed tangle of a brain has cooked up to reflect his Haechan crisis. So, he shuffled until he was nesting in his sheets, then nodded for the mystery boy to continue.

The boy straightened, and suddenly the temperature of the room seemed to dip, the warmth drowned by the deafening quiet – a lack of sound that Donghyuck was growing to really hate. He spoke, shattering the cell of silence, voice foreign and deep, all like some battlefield explosion, “ _A single spark of lightning sets the forest ablaze. Burns so deep within cannot be cured, though water aids in prevention. However, no pain is felt from flames of love._

“ _Fire will die with the rising sun, though its commander is the coming crown. Still, the cold cannot kill, and it never will. Remember, the blaze will relight and serve as shield upon a new dawn._ ”

It took a few blinks and minutes of confusion for Donghyuck to process all his words, and even then he was tempted to ask him for a repeat.

He only got as far as a distressed hum before the boy began to speak again (though this time without all the weight of the prophecy), “I see that my work is now done, and I will leave.”

True to his word and without delay, he all but scrambled towards the window, and as much as Donghyuck would’ve loved to witness the technique behind breaking into a freaking palace, there were more pressing concerns, such as: “Yes, but who are you?”

Just as Donghyuck felt a sudden wave of fatigue drape him like a blanket, he heard the haste whisper, “Yangyang.”

Before he could make some snarky comment on the name, sleep came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tada! tiny.  
> i guess im gonna take this moment to say thank you to everyone reading this and leaving kudos it literally always brings a smile to my face, even though this story isn't really top-tier or anything,,   
> (and also we got to 1000 hits and 100 kudos on etoiles im- thankyousomuchaaaa)


	7. just act a little bit wild (someone'll surely come to play)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's the holidays now but i can barely stare at a frickin screen for more than five mins bc im ILL  
> luckily like the next 3 ish chapters are ready,,  
> sorry this is more build-up, i would've cut it but i liked the interactions here and it sets up at least three later scenes sooo it's still slow lmao

Donghyuck awoke feeling unusually well-rested. An ocean breeze tickled his nose, the warmth of the sun beating through the window signalling the end of the stormy season. His room suddenly felt too much like home and too claustrophobic all at once, so he sat bolt upright, shocking Aria as she laid out his clothes for the day on the bed. They looked especially fancy and gem-speckled compared to the usual suits, and for once his brain had enough charge to piece together the idea that something important was happening today. As if she’d read his mind (or just his expression), Aria promptly relayed his schedule for the day, which today started at eight instead of five, and was apparently a Morning Meeting. It didn’t get any more detailed than that, putting Donghyuck in a slightly worse mood than normal (which was already quite bad on a good day).

Hoping to just rant about it to Rachael, Donghyuck stormed into the dining room without a second thought, ignoring Jaehyun’s attempt to slow him down and the gasps of the waiters as he nearly tipped over their trays. He wasn’t expecting the table to actually be full for once, and certainly not expecting to see so many familiar faces. House Boreas in all their shades of blue, House Emira in their deep browns and golden accents, and House Peregrie in their bright turquoise and cool greys. He noticed the lack of House Nathair, the only member being the queen herself, but that was for obvious reasons; if this was such an important meeting it wouldn’t be wise to have so many whispers take part. Of course, the royal bloodline of House Heizen was there as well, though this was the first time Donghyuck had seen Mark and Rachael in formal black and red attire.

He must’ve been standing and staring for a long enough amount of time for it to have become awkward, because Rachael not-so-subtly coughed in order to get his attention, instead only bringing forth a dozen or so eyes to Donghyuck’s figure looming in the doorway, probably looking like an angry leaf. _At least this leaf has veins of gold_ , he wished for the queen to hear him as he straightened, bracing himself for the upcoming battle. He tilted his chin upwards, ignoring every dagger shot his way as he calmly strolled over to his seat next to Rachael, opposite Morana.

“I see House Beryl has finally decided to join us,” What Donghyuck assumed to be the head of House Boreas drawled in his direction.

“I wanted to make a good impression, this is an important day, is it not?”

The yellow eyes of House Emira narrowed and took aim, the head purring, “Lord Beryl, this is just another monthly meeting, we have one every last Friday of the month.”

“I know,” _I didn’t know that at all,_ “though we do still have important matters to discuss.”

Even the king abandoned his wine glass in favour of staring at Donghyuck like the rest of the table, their silence begging for elaboration.

He took a sip from his glass. “I assume you haven’t all forgotten about the Scarlet Guard. There are also two royal weddings to plan, although I’m sure they can wait in favour of the citizens’ safety.”

“He’s right,” It was a Peregrie who spoke – Lucas, Donghyuck remembered. “They put a bomb in the capital, in the _palace_. Any other season, and the royal family could have been at risk.”

His concern seemed to spread amongst the elders, Donghyuck taking note of the boy’s influence and charisma. If he’d chosen the opposite side, Haechan could’ve looked like the court jester instead of a worthy head at the table. _I feel like a fucking joke, but I guess I’m technically a head, too._ It was a little funny how the only reason the royals escaped the attack was because they were at their holiday home, though.

Surprisingly, it was Mark who made the rebuttal. “The Scarlet Guard is of no worry. The whole country knows we don’t live in the capital during summer and they didn’t even cause a single casualty.” He made a point of looking Donghyuck in the eye, and it sent a rush of heat over him like a fever. “They’re cowards.”

He turned away, noticing Rachael’s audible grunt, but the queen saved his dignity. “The Scarlet Guard are still terrorists, however small, and they are being dealt with.”

Donghyuck gulped; she was right. The Scarlet Guard were nothing but a tiny match up against a sea of flames encased in crown jewels. They would be so easy to snuff out, and Donghyuck desperately hoped Jeno hadn’t gotten tangled up in a lost cause without him.

Satisfied with the court’s silence, the queen continued, “There are still other important matters to do with the borders. As you can see, there are empty seats due to the lack of House Terran, who are valiantly serving their king and country fighting at the warfront.”

_Probably more the king than the country, and it’s all being served through red blood anyway._

“The Lakelanders attempted to progress their borders to the south, where our own borders meet our allies of Piedmont. Fortunately, General Terran was on post and successfully defended the line. However, this means that the Lakes have switched to offensive tactics, which could be a very fatal sign if we do not discuss our own response.”

The heads erupted into choruses of ideas, one after the other like dominoes, unable to stop. Frankly, Donghyuck couldn’t keep up with all their crazy, sometimes bordering on psychotic, much less inhumane ideas, instead focusing on the funny expressions Lucas made as he tried to picture each idea in his mind. The silk girl with perfect posture next to him rolled her eyes at least three times. The king had gone back to admiring his wine glass, on his third refill now (Donghyuck had been counting as he watched the queen for any interesting reactions), which clearly meant that none of the ideas had been good.

Perhaps breakfast was particularly hot this morning, or Mark and Morana were subtly having a measuring contest to see who would break the tactical news to the table first out of the pair, due to the steam wafting around their end of the table. Of course the prince would have good ideas, though Donghyuck had heard rumours that the ice queen was even more cunning on the battlefield – she was two years older, after all.

Finally Mark spoke, probably driven to the edge after the Emira head suggested sending their own charge across the border, using Red soldiers as bait and living shields in order to win the battle. (That idea nearly made Donghyuck shoot a bolt of lightning straight from his eyes like a laser beam, but Rachael’s small kick to his shin distracted him from actually doing it.)

“We shouldn’t do anything. The capital was just attacked and we only just had Queenstrial, so the Lakes must think we’re distracted and open to attack. They think they have the advantage, but we have everything under control, and changing our plans might send a message to our troops that we feel threatened. Our current tactics are a good balance of offense and defence, and we shouldn’t risk altering that.”

Despite being new to the whole ‘war’ thing, Donghyuck didn’t feel as lost as he assumed he’d be. _So, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it._

The king finally seemed to listen when his son was the one speaking, even nodding in understanding. Donghyuck didn’t miss Isla’s eyes flit over to her own daughter, as if begging her to step in; a glance to his side and he saw Rachael glaring back, perhaps already caught up in some mental argument of their own special kind. The other houses fell into hushed discussions until Morana’s voice snapped their attention back to Donghyuck’s charming end of the table, although this time he wasn’t the one being scowled at.

“My betrothed makes a good point, but I feel that it is not the best point.” Mark didn’t look her way as the king gestured for her to go on. “I suggest that we arrange another meeting with the allies of Piedmont, as the border scuffle was partly theirs, although I hear no reports of them having taken action on it. This means that they owe us, which could mean we have some potential new weapons for the war.”

If Donghyuck had gained any respect for Morana over the course of his stay, he certainly had some now. Of course, he was still scared shitless every time he felt her cold breath in close proximity (which was very often that morning considering they were sitting opposite each other), but she had swiftly pulled the rug from under the prince’s arrogance in less than a minute-long speech. She was renowned and feared for good reason, and the shivers wracking Donghyuck’s back weren’t entirely from the cold.

The king finally spoke, “Then it’s settled, we do nothing for now, but arrange a meeting with the royals of Piedmont.”

There were nods and affirmations from around the table, Donghyuck joining in for the sake of appearances. Rachael seemed particularly smug about Mark’s defeat, but that was probably just a sibling thing; Donghyuck knew how petty such squabbles could get.

Amidst the conversation, Donghyuck heard his fake name called out, so he naturally tuned in on whoever was speaking about him, not expecting it to be Lucas.

“Wait, aren’t General Terran and Haechan actually cousins?”

The silk girl hummed in response, catlike eyes turning on Donghyuck, “I suppose, as Lady Blaise was the General’s aunt.” She leaned forward, “However, the two look _nothing_ alike.”

Donghyuck had seen portraits of the Terrans, he’d even heard descriptions from various servants. They were all a good few shades paler than him, even with all his face paint, and most were about twice his height. He was pretty tall compared to a lot of other Reds, but apparently Silvers were so superhuman that they were all at least a foot taller than average. _At least the prince is practically the same height as me._ But then he wondered why he’d noticed that fact.

He placed his knife and fork down neatly onto his plate, as Lady Sakura had so infuriatingly taught him to do, having finally had a chance to eat some goddamn food while he could and the others were stressing about Red sacrifice. “I’m afraid I can’t undo the past 18 years of my life spent under the sun, as it must’ve burnt my skin to a darker shade than natural.”

“Ah, shut it, Priya.” Lucas slapped the silk on the back, Donghyuck freezing at the sudden act and praying that the swift didn’t get eaten alive later. “ _We’re_ cousins and we look _totally_ different!” He turned to Donghyuck, “Sorry about her, she’s just salty about being on this goddamn table for ten years and still not managing to make lil Markie look her way.” He ignored her yowl of protest in favour of introducing himself, “I’m Lucas by the way – oh, and, sorry for shoving you over the fence at Queenstrial, my bad. I mean, it’s great we found a long lost heir and all, but-”

Wait. This guy was the reason Donghyuck’s currently dressed in awful green robes and sticky face paint, breathing through his lies and being tossed between the High Houses’ scrutiny at every gathering? He’d be getting a fist to the face the next time they met, for sure.

Back to the present, Priya must’ve pinched Lucas under the table, because he jumped in his seat with a comical yelp. “ _We_ look different because we’re cousins through marriage.”

Lucas continued his rant to Donghyuck, ignoring her point, “Y’see, I don’t understand why she still wants to sit here, it’s already too late for her chance to make ugly burner babies with the prince- _ow_ , what the fuck was that?”

Priya just lifted her chin at him, taking a napkin to wipe something sparkly from her claws, Donghyuck recognising the metallic scent with a sigh. He’d ask Jaehyun to heal him later, but he wasn’t quite sure whether the swift was deserving of his aid.

“I am literally two seats away from you guys and you still have no sense of shame.” Mark sounded like he dealt with their antics every day, which he probably did, now that Donghyuck thought about it properly.

Priya just hissed in his direction, “For the record, I never wanted your dick like the rest of those monkeys; I’m here for information because that’s what my family specialise in.”

“Uh-huh.” The response was simultaneous from both boys, and Donghyuck couldn’t help but break his mask and smile with them.

Finally finished with her mental argument, Rachael whispered next to him, “They share a brain cell.”

“Which ones?” He joked back, earning a giggle.

“How sweet, the shadow of a princess and the suspicious Red-born have chemistry.” Morana wasn’t even looking at them as she spoke, instead focusing on eating her must-be-cold-now bacon.

Their end of the table went silent for the first time that morning, even Mark taken off guard by Morana’s sudden passive-aggressiveness.

Donghyuck was about to make the rational counter that that was clearly a good thing, but the shiver continued her assault and cut him off. “Strange, how they let such a clear liability sit at this table, let alone in the palace at all.” Her cool grey eyes seemed to pierce cold icicles straight through his soul as she glared. “For all anyone knows, he could be part of the Scarlet Guard himself.”

Mark finally snapped out of his stupor, “Morana-”

“You may think otherwise, but a terrorist group is always a threat, however small.”

As expected, Rachael launched in to defend him, “Rana, c’mon, do you have to do this now? I already told you he’s _fine_ -”

It didn’t matter, because Morana still continued, addressing Donghyuck directly this time, “Tell me honestly, did you ever make contact with the Scarlet Guard?”

He bit down the urge to gulp and look stupid as their whole group turned to stare, all so focused they could probably even see the sweat collecting on his neck. Luckily, he never got too involved with the so-called terrorist group, so he guessed it would be best to tell them the truth (although he had a creeping suspicion that his truth wouldn’t satisfy the living block of ice opposite him).

Taking a deep breath while regaining his posture, he answered truthfully, “Yes, I asked them to smuggle me and my friend out of the country in order to avoid the war.” He scoffed, clearly remembering their unwelcoming offer that nearly got him killed and successfully got Jisung bed-ridden. “However, their price was so high I doubt even some Silvers could have paid it up front, and it was impossible to acquire in the time span they gave us.”

Morana raised a brow, “And that’s all?”

“Yes,” He nearly hissed, “I didn’t get any more involved than that. They’re idiots, basically. You’d think they’d accept any willing madman if they wanted to cause an uprising, but _no_ , they have _standards_.”

Haechan was never sarcastic, but Donghyuck definitely was, and everyone but the royal children seemed slightly taken aback by his sudden brashness. Morana took it all in stride, her eyes glinting as if she’d made some small victory by putting a crack in his mask, and leaned forward to continue her interrogation (or antagonising, which was probably her ulterior motive). Fortunately, the queen silenced the whole table including Morana, bringing forth what this Morning Meeting must’ve been about all along.

“I do believe that before we can even _start_ thinking about the weddings, that we have a couple of parties to plan, no?”

And as simple as that, the tension in the room was swept away by a current of first class problems such as colour theory of the curtains.

-o-O-o-

Perhaps it was the sudden glaring presence of all the families sat around the dining table that morning, or even just waking up to the scent of the ocean, but Donghyuck found he couldn’t shake his growing feeling of guilt, sprouting like a weed inside him, stubbornly refusing to leave even when Donghyuck tried to fry it away, still practising his lightning abilities with Doyoung. The guilt morphed into nausea throughout the day, and he swore he felt his insides turn around when he finally returned to his room in the evening, the sunset over the ocean taunting him, a great fiery monster swallowing up everything he desired. The queen definitely gave him this view on purpose. Thankfully, Rachael had noticed his unease during dinner, and her knock on the door was welcomed all too soon for someone he’d known for less than a week.

She took one look at him and promptly nodded, having come to a conclusion. “Homesick.”

The image made his stomach do another ugly turn, having reminded him of Honey. She always knew what was wrong with him, and he wanted her back so badly. Wincing, he could only give a small nod in response, putting the rest of his energy and willpower into holding back another mental breakdown; he’d already done that to the prince, and he would not be doing it to the princess. Something about her gave him the idea she wouldn’t be anywhere near as willing to forget about the whole scenario if it were to happen, and he’d much prefer not to be reminded of such an embarrassing moment for the rest of his days.

Donghyuck still had enough awareness to notice Rachael’s shift in behaviour, her curved brows and frown straightening into a poker face. Before he could ask what she was planning, her thin hands grabbed his wrists, leading him away and out the room. One glare from her cold blue eyes, and Jaehyun promptly backed away, no doubt reminded of her mother. Donghyuck managed to give him a small apologetic smile, but Jaehyun’s expression remained judging.

Rachael led him through the maze of corridors with expected ease, Donghyuck’s headache preventing him from memorising any part of the route, let alone realising that they were crossing over to the opposite branch of the palace. Before he could figure out why Rachael was suddenly wearing a hideous smirk, the door they’d stopped in front of opened, the guards instantly letting the princess and her pet into wherever it was they’d been guarding.

They gave way to a large room, its wallpapers gilded with gold, the borders intricate but the main part left to a simple block colour pattern, most walls black with a few in garish red. The bed itself was larger than most houses Donghyuck had seen in his childhood, its posts like braided tree trunks and the curtains as rich as wedding veils. The room would’ve looked pretty terrible overall (to Donghyuck’s inexpert eye) if not for the personal trinkets and various books strewn across the floor and furniture. Histories, biographies, manuals – Donghyuck recognised the covers but the titles held words far more complicated than his one-week-literate brain could comprehend – then piles upon piles of clothes, leather and armour and all-sorts. He scrunched his nose up at the sight, suddenly thankful that his sniffles clogged whatever smell was probably swimming about the room.

Scratching absent-mindedly, Donghyuck finally turned to interrogate Rachael as to why they’d ran from his own bedroom to what appeared to just be another bedroom, but fancier, and messier, but was silenced both by Rachael’s index finger and a third party.

“Who is it? I’m _busy_.” Judging from Mark’s tone, he probably knew it was Rachael (and had no clue about Donghyuck).

Rachael sounded equally annoyed as she yelled back, “Just get the fuck out here we need to talk.”

For a princess, she had a very unladylike vocabulary, but the use of a swear word successfully brought Mark out of his cave – Donghyuck just wasn’t prepared for him to be dressed in nothing but a towel. Similarly, Mark wasn’t expecting Donghyuck to be standing there with his sister, and went bright white the moment he turned the corner. Rachael just rolled her eyes, groaning as she raided the closet next to her for clothes that she then threw at her brother, violently. Mark practically jumped back out of view as he changed, Donghyuck unable to erase the image from his mind however hard he tried – if anything he probably made the thought stick more.

Directing his anger at Rachael with a glare, she only shrugged in response. “Who do you think can sneak you out of the palace, moron? ‘Cause it isn’t me.”

Somewhat satisfied with that reasoning, Donghyuck settled with a grumble, waiting for the prince to reappear. He was fully clothed this time and his blush had gone down several shades, though he still looked pale; Donghyuck had seen Mark blushing so much that he wasn’t actually sure how pale was natural. While the pair were so busy trying to avoid eye contact, Rachael not-so-subtly elbowed Donghyuck.

When all he did was whine indignantly in response, she sighed, “Alright, I’m gonna leave you two. Take care of him,” Although it wasn’t clear who she addressed the last part to.

Donghyuck missed the face Mark must’ve made at his sister’s sudden retreat, as she gave him the finger as she left, the door slamming shut behind her. He couldn’t help but laugh, breaking part of the tension in the air, “Damn, who taught the princess so many curses?”

Mark didn’t laugh with him. “The front.”

“Oh.” He wasn’t sure how to respond to that, having avoided the war himself, and deep down he couldn’t help but feel a bit proud of his fellow Reds for tainting the princess. He decided that remaining silent was the best course of action.

The humidity in the air seemed to relax with the silence. “I assume you want to see your family, then?”

Donghyuck abruptly stopped his hand that’d been scratching his trousers. “Yes, why the hell else would I be here?” Seeing Mark tense at his harshness, he toned himself down. “For the record, I had no idea Rachael was taking me here, she just… did it.”

Mark turned away to search for something in a different wardrobe, but Donghyuck didn’t miss his smile. “Yeah, Rach has a habit of dumping sudden plans on people. I don’t think anyone ever knows what she’s actually thinking, but maybe that’s for the best.”

Though his words were fond, Donghyuck understood the bitter aftertaste. With a mother like the queen, a whisper, life could never be easy. He didn’t want to even try imagining what Rachael must’ve suffered to close off her mind like that – he wasn’t even sure he could at all, their lives were so different. Donghyuck was different from everyone, Red and Silver alike, so maybe he shouldn’t try to imagine himself in anyone else’s life. Funny, how he’d always been different in small ways, even to all the Reds in the Stilts he was odd, but now he may as well be a different species. Too gifted to be Red, too filthy to be Silver: a neutral party amidst two warring entities, and surely the next target on the kill list.

Warm hands on Donghyuck’s skin lifted him out of his thoughts, for once not surprised at the sudden difference in temperature, but at how soft and gentle Mark’s hands were – too soft for a warrior. He looked up to find his bronze eyes glittering with worry.

“You were scratching again.”

Donghyuck rolled his eyes, ignoring the small flutter he might’ve gotten from the caring gesture. “Great observational skills, can we go now?”

“Put this on first,” And then he handed Donghyuck what looked like a small black sheep, and only once he took it did it unravel into a woolly coat.

He scoffed, handing it back, “I don’t need a dumb coat, thanks.”

Mark pushed back, “It’s summer, there are no clouds to keep the heat in at night and you’ll catch a cold if you don’t put this on.”

Huffing, Donghyuck grabbed the coat, only to throw it to the side. It was worth it just for Mark’s gaping mouth. “Your highness, I grew up swimming in the ocean during December, I can handle a summer night.”

They stood in opposition for a few moments until Mark finally gave in. “Fine, but if you get ill I told you so.”

“Anything to get out of etiquette training.”

“There’ll be no fight training, either.”

“Oh my _god_ , I’m not getting ill!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes ik we end in an awkward place dont come for me  
> (honey is hyuck's adoptive mother btw, i think it was mentioned in the deal w/ the king)  
> god from now on fics r just gonna have other idols in ocs r too much effort yikes  
> also comeback?? soon!!! im legit shaking aksjhakdsjaksh


	8. i miss my home (there's a fire burning in my bones)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how are there more chapters for this EDITED and CUT version of this goddamn au wtf  
> ALSO i dont speak korean so i relied on google for the meanings n stuff, don't come at me plz  
> i am slowly trying to world build bc good ms aveyard didn't, and i promise this fantasy dystopia crap will get explained properly when they leave the palace setting

As it turns out, sneaking out of the palace was a lot more complicated than just toppling out of a window and heading down – there were Guards and cameras that way, not to mention all the spikes and barbed vines decorating the rooftop, courtesy of Houses Ogun and Verdant. The whole array made Yangyang's existence much more likely to have been the result of his imagination - there was no way a normal guy could've gotten past the flesh-eating flowers that towered the walls, or the deadly wires that snaked along the fences. (But then, a boy who announced prophecies like a news report wasn't exactly normal, was it?)

Behind one of Mark’s bookcases was a secret passageway, although that only led down to the dungeons, and that didn’t lead to any exits, so the trek through spider webs and puddles was thankfully temporary. Mark’s flame lit up the path enough so that Donghyuck avoided most of the gross stuff anyway, but he was still relieved when Mark punched an odd brick in the wall that set off another secret door. The shadows had appeared to be alive and watching, creeping forward with the flicker of the fire, every single sound sending off multiple warning bells in Donghyuck’s mind – he could finally think without the looming sense of imminent dread hanging above him in the shadows.

(“You don’t seem surprised at all the, like, trap doors and stuff?”

“Actually, I’ve been waiting to be led through some creepy secret passage the whole time I’ve been held hostage in this bloody palace. I just thought that the reason would be something more exhilarating than homesickness, y’know?”)

They resurfaced in a room that was dusty enough to rival Tsubaki’s old bedroom (after she left, no one was gonna clean it for her; he briefly wondered if it’d still be dusty when he saw it again). Donghyuck attempted to count the spider webs in this room to see if there were more than in the dungeons, but quickly gave up after the eleventh one. As his eyes scanned the room, its walls all covered in light pink wallpaper with golden patterns blooming over every inch, he landed on the large portrait hanging above the mantelpiece. It was faded with dust and time, but Donghyuck recognised the warm brown eyes and spruce-coloured hair as the traits of House Kim.

Further along the walls were more and more portraits, all of people he didn’t recognise, apart from a couple. One of a family of three, the young boy in the middle unmistakeably a little Doyoung, and the other a portrait of the lady above the mantelpiece sat next to her son, puffing his chest out to seem taller and smiling brightly, though he couldn’t have been older than four. He looked so small and so happy, happier than Donghyuck had ever even thought Mark could be, and he wondered how hard it must’ve been to hold that pose for so long, his own small smile reflected on his face as he gazed up at all the frames.

Finally, Donghyuck turned away from all the pictures, finding Mark fiddling with a door on the other side of the room. He joined his side quietly, not wanting to accidentally stir up any bad memories or emotions that might ruin the trip. He didn’t quite know the full story – Aria had no information on the matter, and it wouldn’t exactly have been appropriate to ask Doyoung or Jaehyun about the situation either. Still, he knew that she was dead. Donghyuck shifted uncomfortably next to Mark; the air seemed to simmer, bordering on boiling.

Instead of ignoring Donghyuck, Mark sighed, stepping away from the door to talk.

“They were meant to destroy this whole place, everything belonging to her family, but the king couldn’t do it.” He chuckled grimly at the memory, “He also couldn’t bear to step foot in any of her rooms ever again. So, they just sealed everything off, pretending it never existed.”

Donghyuck gulped, thinking of an appropriate response. “At least you know she’s still here.”

“That was the problem, I’d come here too often, hide away from all the responsibilities and memorials.” He creased his brows. “Actually, Isla made sure there wasn’t even a proper funeral, so I don’t really remember what exactly I was running away from.”

“Probably the witch herself,” Donghyuck supplemented, earning the slightest grin, so he continued, “with a capital B.”

Mark shook his head, “Maybe. I wish you could’ve met her, though.”

With the way the current queen was, Donghyuck wished the first queen was still around too. He was half certain that pointing out the absence of Rachael if the first queen survived would’ve been out of line, so instead he said nothing, sighing. The heat in the air was bubbling, turning into something dangerous, so Donghyuck distracted Mark with a question, hoping it didn’t seem like he was prying.

“What was her name?”

Mark seemed to understand Donghyuck’s underlying message, taking a deep breath as he tried to relax, answering, “Hwanbyeol.”

It took Donghyuck a full moment to understand that what he’d said wasn’t gibberish, but an actual name. _Guess I’ve heard worse, especially with these Silvers_. Nevertheless, he couldn’t stop himself from going, “Pardon me, your highness, but who allowed such a name?”

Mark giggled, not offended in the slightest, “That’s why everyone knew her as Stella. It’s sort of the same meaning, just a different one of the ancient languages. Every House has them, but when the New Era began everyone changed their names to something more pronounceable, something that matched the Nortan language.”

Donghyuck found himself properly invested, asking, “What does it mean?”

Mark smiled, the air settling down into a comfortable warmth, “Shining star, but Stella just means star, which is why I prefer the original.”

“Ah,” Donghyuck had been taught well by his new tutors, despite his hatred for one and suspicion of the other, “adjectives do get the point across more.”

“You sound oddly proud of that realisation.”

“Do you prefer me bitchy and sarcastic?”

“Sort of. It’s funnier.” As Donghyuck narrowed his eyes, Mark’s smirk only grew more lop-sided. “Anyway, would you like to know what your name means?”

“Is this gonna be a service now, one crown and the prince’ll tell you the meaning of life hidden in a name?”

He giggled again, a bright sound that Donghyuck found he wanted to get used to. “No, I don’t know _all_ the ancient languages, no one does, but I know _your_ name – I’m the one who suggested it, after all.”

Donghyuck froze. Rachael had left out that piece of information when she recounted all the details of choosing his new identity, from the pairing of a storm and an oblivion, to the General’s history and the Terrans’ link to the throne, all the way back to the colours of his robes, but not that the prince had chosen his name. However, his indignation was quickly replaced with curiosity. He listened.

“Haechan.” Mark paused, almost as if he was regretting opening his mouth, continuing in a lower voice. “It means full sun.”

Donghyuck wanted to scoff, he really, really, did – _him_ , named after the sun? The very thing breathing life into this cursed world, and the prince of all people thought a Red thief with powers he shouldn’t have was as bright as the sun. Instead, he felt blood rush to his ears against his will, the only thing distracting Mark from noticing being the door he was leaning against getting yanked open.

A small ball of rage was waiting on the other side, ignoring Mark as he lost his balance and landed in an unsightly heap on the tiles. Donghyuck was sure he recognised the boy, quickly registering his servant’s outfit and itching at the memory of wearing it. Perhaps he’d seen the Red boy around the Stilts.

The boy rolled his eyes, “This is the third time this month you’ve fallen over, _your highness_ , because you keep ignoring my advice which is to _not_ lean against the door.”

Mark grunted as he stood, “And how many times is that?”

“Exactly 12 times this month including that one.”

“Well, I don’t remember any of them.”

“I’ve warned you 263 times over the course of our partnership, your highness, you can’t be _that_ forgetful.”

Then it clicked – Donghyuck knew why he recognised the boy. “You’re mystery boy number two!”

The pair turned to Donghyuck, each as confused as the other, “Number two?”

“There’s also a number three but I’m 80% certain he was a hallucination.”

“Anyway,” Mark grabbed Donghyuck’s arm, probably in a vain effort to shut him up, turning to the other boy, “next time you should hurry up with your part of the deal, Renjun.”

“I had to wait for all the maids to finish cleaning, I couldn’t have done this any faster without getting caught! Need I remind you I’m the one who’ll get punished for this madness? _If I’m dead you won’t be able to sneak out!_ ”

But Renjun’s complaints were fading into the background, Mark practically dragging Donghyuck along to wherever the exit supposedly was. They cut through a storage room that only Reds ever used, ending up in a room full of what Donghyuck could only describe as clutter, the larger pieces obscured by large blankets gathering dust. He recognised some things as tools similar to those issued to the techies, but most of the room was foreign apart from the several objects that were literally begging for a jolt of electricity, its taste lingering in the air.

Mark pulled the covers from the thing in the middle of the room, revealing a… thing. Donghyuck had no clue what the shimmering piece of metal was at all, only that it was a monster that fed on electricity, growling as it woke up when Mark switched it on. Donghyuck was half convinced the thing would eat him if he got any closer, cursing his status as a living battery.

After opening the large door at the end of the room, Mark returned to straddle the beast, confused at the slight yelp Donghyuck made at the sight. “What? It’s not gonna blow up.”

Donghyuck gave him a look, folding his arms to signify that he wasn’t moving.

Mark glared, “Donghyuck, get over here or we’ll miss our chance.”

Donghyuck’s scowl harshened.

As expected, Mark was losing the glaring contest, so he changed his tactics. “If you stay there you’ll never see your family again, I’ll personally make sure.”

“You wouldn’t.”

Mark’s expression remained a poker face.

With a groan, Donghyuck gave up – he _was_ desperate, after all. He cautiously edged towards the metal thing, noticing its two large wheels as he got closer. Snatching the helmet that Mark offered, he hopped onto the back, making sure to kick Mark’s shins as he got on.

He felt like he’d topple over at any given moment, precariously sat balanced on the end of the seat. “Is this thing even safe for two people?”

“It should be,” The thing growled louder as Mark set it into gear, “but you may want to hold on.”

“What do you mean ‘should be’- _holy fucking shit_ ,”

He hoped that the Guards hadn’t heard his screams as the thing roared ahead, racing down the dirt roads at a crazy speed. The palace faded away into the night, nothing more than a foreboding silhouette, one that a little kid might be scared of if they woke up in the middle of the night to such a sight, but Donghyuck had never been afraid of any monsters under the bed. He just wanted to see his bed again, roll around in its rough and worn covers, breathe in its scent of cheap sweets and alcohol he often stole and snuck to his room at night. As the city walls melted past into dark, spiked branches of the bordering forests, the scent of the ocean grew stronger, and Donghyuck relished in the breeze as it messed up his perfectly styled hair, mentally apologising to all the maids who’d put so much effort into it, but thanking nature for welcoming him back home, ruffling his hair like Ten and Tsubaki used to.

His arms wrapped embarrassingly tight around Mark’s waist, Donghyuck just wished he’d survive this hell trip to see his family again. When he voiced those thoughts, Mark’s only response was that same airy laughter, echoing through the clear black sky, making Donghyuck buzz with another rush of heat.

-o-O-o-

Donghyuck finally realised just how tiny his house was, seeing it up close for the first time in nearly a week. He nearly chuckled at the thought: he’d only been living as Haechan for five days, and yet it felt like five years. Without all the makeup, he’d surely have some wrinkles and dark circles from all the stress the week had caused him, so far back as the Feats. Those were exactly a week ago.

Memories from that nightmare weekend began to creep back, haunting him like the queen’s whispers – except this wasn’t his imagination. Sobbing into his knees with the prince of his country as witness, his mothers’ sobs as they realised their youngest child would never walk again, Jisung’s screams rattling his body as the Guards broke his legs, the taunting smirks of the Scarlet Guard as they outlaid their impossible deal, Jeno’s deathly figure as he retold the events of the storm- with a gulp, Donghyuck realised that was probably his own fault. His powers seemed to fluctuate with how he was feeling, and that day he was feeling _particularly_ pissed.

The figure of Donghyuck’s old house, small but looming, suddenly seemed all too terrifying to approach. There were too many loose ends to tie that would take far too much effort to untangle, or would be impossible to fix at all, and Donghyuck didn’t want to face them. He scratched at his sleeves, feeling the crisp night air dig in through the thin fabric like teeth – a welcoming distraction from the fear of what lay beyond the front door, that he’d even averted his gaze from. Instead, he found himself looking back into the darkness of the surrounding vegetation, where Mark had hidden his cycle (at least that’s what he called the thing), searching for the comfort of a flame, his presence, his warmth.

A tap on the shoulder sent Donghyuck into defensive mode, whipping around to face whichever family member had spotted him, only to find Mark muttering a weak _ouch_ , complaining about static. The scene only made Donghyuck’s heart sink further – what would his family see him as now, a living taser?

“Do you need me to like slap you or something?” Mark’s hand was awkwardly raised like a student answering a teacher’s question, halfway poised to strike if Donghyuck so wished, but he didn’t.

Still, Donghyuck at least took his hands away from itching. “Why the fuck would I want to get slapped? I’m _fine_ , thanks.”

Mark’s own arm retreated, folding over the other as his brows furrowed. “I beg to differ. Just then you looked like a lost puppy desperately searching for its owner.”

“Ugh, Silvers and your pets. Rich kid.” As Mark’s scowl deepened, Donghyuck found a different approach, grinning. “Besides, if anyone’s a puppy it’s you with that dumb face.”

Mark went slightly paler – _bingo_. Donghyuck hoped that would shut him up for the rest of the night, turning instead to face his fears of the Lee Household (funny, he never thought he’d ever be one of those pathetic Reds scared of simply knocking on the door), deciding that would be a better fate than suffering any longer with prince ‘please stop scratching’ – but Mark apparently wanted to continue the conversation.

“Did you just imply that I’m cute?”

“What?” Donghyuck turned, horrified at the thought of such a misunderstanding, but also slightly impressed that the prince had finally grown a pair (he refused to believe it had anything to do with him crying like a baby whilst clinging to Mark’s back on the way over).

With a lop-sided smile, Mark elaborated, “Well, you called me a puppy, and puppies are cute, so,”

Donghyuck blinked in disbelief, barely holding in a groan of frustration, “I literally called you dumb, that’s not a compliment. You should be taking offense right now, not grinning like an idiot.”

He shrugged, “Dumb, cute, annoying – they’re all kinda the same thing.”

“No they’re not?” Yet Donghyuck couldn’t help but flashback to the time Jeno gave his reasoning for loving Mimi so much – she was dumb and so goddamn annoying but apparently that made her all the more adorable. Bullshit, if you asked him.

“They’re all you.”

Now _that_ made Donghyuck choke on air, hardly letting himself believe that the fucking crown prince had just said that to him, almost tempted to pinch himself for the sake of it. Mouth agape and speechless, Donghyuck could do nothing to stop a blush from rising, though glaring daggers at Mark’s infuriatingly smug face helped his conscience. He wasn’t sure if the heat in the air came from his own lightning threatening to fry the prince right then and there, or Mark’s weird aura.

Mark giggled, and Donghyuck couldn’t deny the way it sent a shiver down his spine and a rush of blood to his face. “Finally, now I know what you look like blushing.”

“Was that all you fucking wanted? Fucking sadist.”

“It’s only fair, you’ve seen me white as snow so now I get to see you red as a tomato.”

“You’re terrible, your highness,” Hissing, Donghyuck was already filing this particular memory away, turning towards his home in another attempt to ignore the prince, “and you’re going to _behave_ unless you want my mothers and siblings to skin you alive, because they will.”

But before Donghyuck had taken more than two steps towards the door, Mark was ahead of him, blocking the entrance with his unnecessarily heavy coat. He wouldn’t have looked so intimidating in the daylight, but in the darkness his fiery eyes glowed with warning.

Placing his own hand on the handle, he whispered, “No, _you’re_ going to behave. If your powers malfunction out here, there’s no telling what disaster could happen.” He raised a finger to silence Donghyuck’s rebuttal. “Tell them I’m your Guard, I doubt anyone would recognise me otherwise.”

_At this rate, I may as well tell them you’re my betrothed_ , but Donghyuck didn’t say that out loud; he felt that would be a step too far. Also, Mark opened the door, leading to another whole array of obstacles to overcome, but also to the cure for his homesickness. The sudden light and buzz of electricity from within temporarily blinded him, but perhaps it was his lack of vision that made him step forward, possessed by some ancient spirit of confidence, and yell for a family meeting. Even Mark made a small confused noise at the sudden outburst, but he didn’t deserve anyone’s pity, let alone Donghyuck’s – his ploy worked after all, every one of his family members collectively hurrying towards the source of the loud ‘ _I’M HOME_ ’ that probably woke the neighbours.

Well, all his family except one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haHA. ok it’s not much of a cliffhanger if u know the books but yeah  
> i cut out SO MUCH, like all the family reunions and the breakdown and then jeno turning up and frick- it was some good angst and it’s GONE. oh well at least we get another mark interlude next chapter (yess the slow burn is getting somewhere sit tight)  
> houses key- (I FORGOT THIS LAST TIME SORRY)  
> storms (hyuck): beryl  
> burners (royals): heizen  
> whispers: nathair  
> oblivions: terran  
> swifts: peregrie  
> nymphs: zhong  
> blood healers: jung  
> shivers: boreas  
> silks: emira  
> magnetrons: ogun  
> greenwardens: verdant


	9. no thank you (is what i should've said)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things: i cut out A LOT of angst n stuff, it basically boils down to hyuck reuniting w/ everyone, jisung's legs are ~suspiciously~ healed, ten is "dead", he gets pissed and nearly summons a lightning strike onto the house, jeno shows up to calm him down, then he gets drunk-pissed, jeno figures out mark is the prince, jeno tries to goodbye kiss hyuck and he narrowly dodges it lmao, hyuck wants to go to the beach and mark can't say no, so here we are!!!  
> -  
> so  
> are you ready for the first Moment??

A full moon illuminated the white sands of the shore, glittering, and much like the wind whipping at his face and leaving him in temporary shock at the force, Mark suddenly realised why Donghyuck loved his home. Few stars survived the smoke from the southern factories, twinkling hopefully as they aided the moon in her attempt to light up the earth, though it wasn’t much – the black of the sea seemed to swallow the very sky, its highest waves crashing in the distance with muffled crunches. He kept his fingers away from his firemaker, not wanting to ruin the soft lighting of the night, painting Donghyuck’s fading figure in a stunning array of deep greens and blues, the golden accents of his House colours highlighting his broad shoulders and long limbs. 

Realising he shouldn’t be staring, but continuing to do so anyway, Mark ingrained the beautiful image into his memory in case he never got to see such a sight again - which was very likely, as they had snuck out and the only reason Donghyuck was strolling into the abyssal waves of darkness was because he’d gotten incredibly drunk at his family’s house. Still, Mark wasn’t so heartless as to deny Donghyuck’s last wish to see the ocean again before he was caged in the palace, a pawn for the witch queen to sacrifice. (It might have had something to do with the flicker in his gaze, usually so bold, or the softness in his voice, usually so strong, when he’d asked.)

After all, Donghyuck was mourning the loss of a brother; Mark didn’t blame him for drowning his worries in alcohol and then throwing himself to the beck and call of the ocean.

His thoughtful staring was cut off when Donghyuck suddenly began to strip in the distance, Mark hastily averting his eyes and cursing himself for being so careless - _of course_ he would want to go swimming in the middle of the night, which would mean taking off clothes, which would mean Mark was seriously fucked. As he kept his eyes glued on a nearby tree trunk, he thanked the weather for at least being nice. If he kept Donghyuck content, hopefully it would stay that way, and wouldn’t descend into thunder and lightning.

Mark let his eyes travel across the tree and examine its markings and whorls - it was dusty, cracked and dry, certainly a failed specimen in the eyes of a greenwarden, but Mark could see the small sprouts where branches had been cut or wrenched away by vengeful gales. Despite its lack in height, the trunk was well-proportioned and had a nobility in its straight stature, its dark leaves casting pretty patterns of shadows on the sand, branching out like veins as far as where Mark stood. In a weird way, Mark found that the stubbornness of this one particular tree (the only one in the clearing that wasn’t worn down to a stump or jagged piece of bark) reminded him of Donghyuck. 

A splash in the distance behind him brought Mark out of his reverie, and he shook his head to dismiss any more weird tree thoughts out of his head, turning around to make sure Donghyuck didn’t drown himself in his depression (literally or figuratively - that’s what Mark was looking to tell). Instead of the flailing cat in the water that Mark expected to see, he saw a majestic catfish, gliding over the waves as if they were nothing more than a greeting from the moon herself. Even from this distance Mark could make out Donghyuck’s cheers of joy and occasional gurgles when he accidentally swallowed water, and his series of coughs when it went down the wrong way.

A passer-by would never believe this boy could set the ocean on fire, the way he bobbed over the waves innocently, attempted several underwater handstands and failed them all, occasionally beamed a smile as he caught Mark’s eyes lingering. In fact, Donghyuck was probably more dangerous near water, yet Mark stubbornly decided to disregard that fact because he’d never seen him look so happy (though the time frame he had to work from had been less than a week). Being a burner, Mark really couldn’t sympathise with the delight of being surrounded by water, but if it meant that Donghyuck looked as happy and dazzling as he did that night, soaked skin and hair glistening in the moonlight, his laughter meeting the waves in a delicate melody, then he could come to a compromise. (If anything, he was a little giddy at the fact no one else could see this – _would_ see this – and he was glad Donghyuck couldn’t see him to make fun of whatever dopey expression he was certainly wearing.)

Sudden lights over the horizon pulled Mark’s focus away from the boy in the sea to the encroaching supply ships, their enormous silhouettes like black holes sucking the light away from the night sky. A wave of apprehension drenched him with fear, so he rocketed across the stretch of sand between the stubborn tree and the ocean, frantically yelling for Donghyuck’s attention. When Mark saw Donghyuck finally stand still and upright (desperately trying not to get distracted by his bare upper body) he scooped up the discarded clothes from the shore and lunged forward, one step into the water, shivering as it crawled up his ankle and then further up his shin, creeping past toward his other leg. Gritting his teeth, Mark grabbed Donghyuck’s arm and pulled them both out of the sea, all but dragging him towards a group of beach rocks to the side, where they could get cover from the lights of the ships and hide safely. 

Once they were out of sight, Mark finally let his iron grip loosen, not expecting Donghyuck to collapse without the extra force. _Okay, he drank_ way _too much._ Then again, Mark couldn’t talk: he got drunk from one glass of wine, meanwhile Donghyuck had three bottles earlier and had still managed to swim in the goddamn ocean while drunk, _and_ look amazing. For a moment, the two boys remained in their positions, Mark leaning against a rock and Donghyuck’s back against the sand, chests heaving as they regained their breath after running a good 300m in such a short time. 

Shuffling so that he was sitting up, Donghyuck groaned up at the prince, “The fuck was all that about?” Then he continued to mumble under his breath about all the sand sticking to his wet skin. 

Despite his newfound soft spot for the Red, Donghyuck was still terribly rude, and especially ungrateful. Mark set his face in stone, glaring down, “If anyone sees us out here then we’re worse than dead - the queen will make sure you can never leave your room and the king will send me off on some diplomatic three-month-long trip about mushrooms again.” He definitely wasn’t referring to an actual trip that he actually went on, this was just a very specific and hypothetical example. 

Donghyuck cackled in reply, and Mark was starting to doubt the strength of his scowl because it clearly never worked when it came to this guy (although it scared the shit out of most of the royal court). He huffed at the response, which only made Donghyuck laugh more, and louder, when all Mark was worried about was alerting any Guards – a noise that loud could’ve woken up their allies in Piedmont. 

Harried, Mark attempted to shush Donghyuck the normal way, with whispers and vague arm gestures of pleading, but the sight had the opposite effect as he descended into hysterics; in the end, Mark had to tackle Donghyuck down and forcefully shut him up, hand on mouth. He thanked the darkness for hiding how much paler he went as Donghyuck’s muffled laughter vibrated against his palms, warm and soft. After another minute it seemed that Donghyuck had calmed down from his fit - now he was just irritated at being manhandled. Worried that Dongyhuck would bite him if he held on a moment longer, Mark let go, shuffling away to a safe distance. Again, this had the opposite effect, and Donghyuck switched to glaring daggers, something like lightning flickering in his eyes for a moment. 

Donghyuck snapped before Mark could even open his mouth, “Are you scared of me too? Is that why you keep running away every time I initiate a conversation or get a little too close?” 

Not wanting to end the pretty night in a forest fire or thunderstorm, Mark gulped back his rude answer and instead said, “Donghyuck, you’re drunk and tired and soaking wet; we need to go back to the palace.” He hoped this wouldn’t follow the pattern of every action spectacularly backfiring and only pissing Donghyuck off more. 

Whatever gods that might exist really didn’t take well to Mark, he surmised as Donghyuck stood up, sending sand and water droplets all over him. His back against the moon, Mark definitely saw a flicker of something gold cross Donghyuck’s eyes for a moment as he loomed over the prince, muttering with contempt, “Those ships dock a couple miles from here, so no one’s gonna see us, as long as you don’t burst into fireworks, _your highness_ , so I’m going back to swim one last time before I’m forever trapped in a cage disguised in gold and marble.”

Apparently, the gods also didn’t favour Donghyuck, because as he turned to cross over back to the water, a sudden gust of wind flew straight into him, whipping up a wave in the distance that Mark swore he could feel the spray from where he was sat near the rocks. He let out a comical yelp as he shivered, the cold wind added to his soaked skin making a perfect recipe for hypothermia. Mark had every right to mutter something petty like _I told you so_ , but seeing Donghyuck shrink against the pitch black of night, scowling at nothing, pouting at everything, a little part of Mark melted. Knowing he’d regret this decision soon, Mark sighed as he stood to join Donghyuck, gently tugging his arms away from where they were crossed over his chest, jittering violently. 

“Let me dry you off, then you can put your clothes back on.”

Donghyuck stayed silent, a statue, but his expectant stare suggested some form of acceptance, so Mark went ahead.

It was hard not to let his eyes roam too much as he spread Donghyuck’s arms wide to dry them off, clicking his firemaker on and getting to work. He focused instead on the flames, feeling them beneath his hands, keeping them on a short rein so that they wouldn’t burn the soft skin beneath, matching their push and pull to his own heartbeat, steadying himself so he couldn’t do anything dumb. Surprisingly, Donghyuck didn’t shy away from the flames or mumble a single complaint, suspiciously quiet as Mark continued to waft the heat of his flames over his arms and chest. Against the flames, Donghyuck might have been made of pure gold, shimmering from the seawater and stark amid the shadows Mark cast on the rocks.

Mark didn’t dare let his gaze glance up to read Donghyuck’s expression as he lit up the slopes of his chest, watching it rise with his breathing – unnervingly steady behind the fire – and counting the moles that decorated his body. He realised Donghyuck’s innocent appearance in the form of his round face were misleading, and the broadness of his neck and back too; instead his torso was toned and thin, distressingly so, practically pinching at the waist, and Mark had to focus on other things if he didn’t want his concern to show on his face. Instead, he zoned in on the few untouched scars still left along parts of his upper arms and shoulders, stifling a gasp as his flames lit up a large scar across the side of Donghyuck’s stomach. It was a scaly ridge, jutting up like a mountain range, and Mark had to jerk his hands away to the other arm to stop himself from reaching out to trace the lines of the scars. 

Donghyuck must have noticed Mark’s slight hesitation, as he sighed, “Yeah, that one’s not particularly pretty, but I’m going to keep it from healing for as long as I can.”

Mark let himself frown at that. Again, perhaps Mark’s idea to assign Jaehyun as Donghyuck’s guard hadn’t been such a great plan after all; Donghyuck seemed to hate the healer with a stubborn passion, and hadn’t even let him heal any past scars. He was about to voice an apology, but Donghyuck had decided to go on. 

“I want to keep it as a reminder - I mean, Jaehyun could probably grow my whole fucking kidney back, but I’d rather live without it - life on the edge, y’know? Also, it’s a statement as to how dumb I used to be.”

His eyes were glazed with regret as the memories flooded his mind, and Mark realised a second too late that he had abandoned his ruling and stared in the face of the storm. Donghyuck’s head was tilted away, looking into the distance with an alluring, faraway look. There was a toughness in how he set his jaw firm, despite his vulnerability. Mark’s breath hitched as he realised the sea had cleaned the makeup from his face, and in the fiery glow Donghyuck really was made of gold. There were moles on his neck, dotting up to his cheeks, like an inversion of the stars in the sky above, and it took a lot of restraint for Mark to keep his hands at his sides and not reach up like a toddler to poke at them in wonder.

Sparks glinted off the two earrings Donghyuck always wore, each like a miniature flame of their own, side-to-side and whispering in his ear, daring Mark to listen in too. There was still seawater drenching his hair, turning it near black, in contrast to his skin, glowing with the dew. Mark’s gaze was drawn to movement further down, where Donghyuck’s neck muscles rippled as he gulped, and Mark watched as a water droplet slid down past his veins, down past his collar bone, and at that point he wrenched his gaze away. He started as his eyes flicked back up to stare directly into Donghyuck’s own, and this close Mark could see the storm brewing in their warm brown depths. This time, Mark gulped, afraid to look away. 

Donghyuck kept staring, though he narrowed his eyes, whispering almost to himself, “But I guess I’m still a fool.”

At that point, Donghyuck let his head droop, his hair shaking water onto Mark with the motion, so Mark went back to being a human hair dryer, taking care not to singe anything. After a few moments, the hair was dry and frizzy, so Donghyuck spun around for Mark to dry his back, not many water droplets left now to splash on him. Grinning a little at the layer of sand clinging to Donghyuck’s back, Mark let his flames hover, eagerly searching for any other weird markings now that he was out of the boy’s line of sight. Mark had theories as to how Donghyuck lost his kidney, but starting that conversation right now would’ve hardly been a good idea unless he wanted to ruin the progress he’d made in placating his bad mood, so he remained as silent as the fire, which didn’t so much as crackle under his control. To his relief, there were no scars on Donghyuck’s back, and he finished his job swiftly.

Without thinking, Mark let go of his flames from one hand so he could reach out, beginning to dust the sand off of Donghyuck’s skin. He got about four flicks through until Donghyuck shuddered under his touch and flipped around defensively. Funny, how Mark had scolded Donghyuck’s drunken behaviour, but now Mark had also gone and done something reckless because he really should’ve been asleep two hours ago and the fatigue had finally caught him. He’d barely processed what he’d done when Donghyuck growled something along the lines of _I can take care of myself_ and proceeded to clean himself off like a cat, aggressively pawing at his sides before clawing his clothes back on, all while Mark stood there dumbly, fiddling with his hands, gradually paling as more cogs started to fit together.

The first thing Mark wanted to do was apologise (that was a lie, his first need was to bury himself in the sand or throw himself in the sea and succumb to its fate), although the first thing he managed to say was a stuttered “Did I burn you?”

At Donghyuck’s sharp turn and pointed glare, Mark instantly regretted ever opening his mouth, ever being born, but instead of another rant he just received an aggressive groan of exasperation. 

“I’m too pissed to deal with your weirdness tonight.” That explained why Mark hadn’t gotten yelled at. Then, Donghyuck continued in a lower voice, and Mark could almost hear the smile in his tone, “And you didn’t burn me, not at all.” 

Was it the lighting of Mark’s flames, or was there a slight flush on Donghyuck’s cheeks? Mark couldn’t be sure, but he could be sure of the feeling settling deep in his own chest – the weirdness, as Donghyuck had put it. He knew he shouldn’t be feeling this way; a single second of eye contact was like a jolt of electricity straight to Mark’s brain, short circuiting his wires and rendering him unable to function. He shouldn’t have let himself so close to Donghyuck, and definitely shouldn’t have touched his bare skin, or let his curiosity get the better of him and let his eyes wander where they shouldn’t. Yet, Mark found he couldn’t get enough of Donghyuck’s presence, his intoxicating aura that felt like the exhilaration of a battle and the wonder of a stranger’s party and the heat of lightning, all at once. He was dangerous, but in some twisted way that made Mark want to get even closer, his instincts to fight and conquer only adding fuel to his fire; but Donghyuck wasn’t just any fire – certainly not one he could control. 

He left his thoughts to simmer as Donghyuck finally agreed to return to the palace, deciding to take the small victories where he could. This time, Donghyuck made no noise, and clung to Mark’s back with more grip than previously. The contact was a comfort for both of them, and Mark didn’t even flinch when Donghyuck’s nails dug into his sides, the faint gasps and shifting behind him the only tell as to Donghyuck’s weeping. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bruh i wrote this 3 months ago at like 2am and it’s still the best thing ive written for this goddamn fic wtf (swear to god i get possessed by some ancient author’s ghost when im furiously tapping away on my phone at midnight writing out some random scene from some random fic)  
> but yes, we’ve skipped a lotta scenes, but we’re getting somewhere finally (but ye there’s still abt 3 more chapters until they kiss haha. ha. huh.)  
> ALSO i can't update next week bc everything in life has piled onto one single weekend, plus the monday where i have like 3 exams... why  
> (but the next chapter is super long and has a shit ton of interactions!!)


	10. hold your breath, dim the lights (i won't say you're safe this time)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAYYY im not dead guys sorry this took so longggg  
> but like,,, this BEAST oh god,, 8k wtfffff  
> i rlly wanted to include all these interactions and then ofc there's actual plot to establish, so it ended up all tumbling into one big monster lmao  
> i hope u enjoy and also, plz remember, slow burn :))

His Silver makeup was layered on thick, but Donghyuck feared even that wouldn’t be enough to hide the growing redness of his face. The hand guiding his arm was familiar enough, constantly telling him to stop scratching, but the sense of déjà vu he was getting from feeling Mark’s hand on his back was concerning, to say the least. Currently, his head was clear (Jaehyun had appeared to him as an angel in the morning and cured his hangover in an instant), though his memories of the night before were caught in a fog. He was as glad as confused at Jisung’s miraculous recovery, clearly remembering him running up to hug him all on two stable legs. In general, Donghyuck didn’t really want to remember last night, and realise once more that Ten was gone. Still, the soft touches at his hips convinced him to dig a little deeper into his memories.

Donghyuck remembered losing control and nearly sending a lightning strike on his own house, as well as a lot of crying and presumably drinking – there was also a clear spot in his memory where Jeno figured out Mark was _The Prince_ , shortly followed by Donghyuck turning his head to the side so as to avoid Jeno’s kiss attack (which he could fret over later, because at the moment it was the other boy who was the problem) – and then he remembered being drenched in salty water. Did he fucking ask to go the _sea?_ Did he then go and fucking _swim_ in the sea on a _cold summer night?_ A frustrated moan escaped him as he tried to order his thoughts, the giggle at his side reminding him that the real world was indeed a thing.

“Quit whining, it’s not _that_ hard.” Mark barely stifled a corpse as his hold on Donghyuck’s arm tightened, guiding his fingers correctly around the gun and correcting his aim. “Point and shoot, but be ready for the recoil.”

Donghyuck hated being nit-picked on what to do and how to do it, but he hated how close Mark was a little more, and the fact that the prince was oblivious to this fact, and that his breath raked across the open skin above his collar and sent unwanted sensations over him. “Easy for you, your highness, you probably had a rifle in place of a teddy when you were a baby.”

Donghyuck could practically feel Mark roll his eyes behind him before he let go completely, and for an embarrassing moment Donghyuck forgot how to stand on his own before instinct took over and he regained balance, pulling the trigger as he did so. He fell back instantly and the bullet landed off-centre, missing the body-shaped target’s heart by a few inches, but not far out enough to have only hit the shoulder. If the target were alive, they wouldn’t get an easy death, but they’d probably bleed out in a few minutes without a healer.

Donghyuck flopped onto his back, relishing in the familiar dirt of the ground. “I fucking hate training. Get me back to Doyoung.”

“My _cousin?_ I’m pretty sure Lady Sakura’s more fun than him,” Mark held out his hand and Donghyuck took it, lifting him from the ground.

“Lady Sakura’s at least better than this.” He huffed, snatching his hand out of Mark’s grip childishly.

Thankfully, most of the other Silvers were busy decorating the targets with holes, yelling at each other as they tried to win whatever competition they’d made up between themselves, so none of them could bear witness to Donghyuck’s ridiculous blush. They had fucking _superpowers_ , when would they ever need to use a firearm? He voiced this and launched Mark into some long speech consisting of ‘in-case’s and ‘what-if’s, ignoring most of what he said in favour of thinking back to the night before, scowling at the target in front of him as he replayed the snippets in his head over and over.

He couldn’t have gone swimming – his bed and clothes were completely dry this morning; unless he _had_ gone swimming and somehow he’d dried off. _How though?_ It wasn’t like they’d have had time to go back to his depressing tiny house just to fetch a hair dryer- _oh._ Donghyuck fit the pieces together, turning to the answer as it finished its speech next to him.

“-to use a gun. Got that? Or were you even listening?” Mark’s exasperated frown and motherly stance might’ve made Donghyuck giggle if he wasn’t currently having a crisis.

“Yep.” He nodded, having heard none of it.

Mark was a burner, he probably clicked a fire on and wafted it around to dry him – that would explain the hands on his back, sort of. Not really. Donghyuck nearly whined again at the lack of progress he was making, having only succeeded in confusing himself more.

“Do it again.”

“Huh?”

“Training isn’t training if you shoot once, miss, then give up.”

Donghyuck narrowed his eyes at Mark’s sudden bossy tone, grinning a little at his crossed arms and stern look. Usually, he’d respond with something along the lines of ‘piss off’, but this time he decided to entertain himself by playing along. In a blink, he’d lifted his chin and calmly crossed over to his gun, kicking it up and catching it like a beach pebble. The sight made Mark audibly gasp at the breach of multiple safety rules, and that made Donghyuck grin even wider.

Lifting his gun and directing his focus towards the target, he called, “Not gonna come over here and correct me this time?”

Mark stepped closer, but not to his side, humming, “I think you’re more than capable of figuring this out. You’re quick.”

It took every bit of willpower Donghyuck had in him not to react to that. He inhaled deep and long, wrapping his fingers better around the handle, trying to imitate what Mark had done before. Well, what he remembered, as he was much more distracted then; now, he was ready for it all. The weight had become a little less foreign in his hands, and now he knew what to expect from the recoil, and he’d corrected his aim from last time. It was similar to controlling his powers: he just needed to find the current and stick to it, let it carry him along.

He exhaled. He fired.

This time he only stumbled slightly at the force of the shot, and then a hole just a smidge off from the heart adorned the target. Beaming with pride, Donghyuck turned to gloat at the prince, but ended up laughing at the way Mark was squinting at the board.

“Beginner’s luck.” He mumbled, refusing to make eye contact.

“What happened to me being _quick_ and _too good_ for your help?”

“You were still off-centre, and I never said you were _too good_.”

“Uh-huh.”

Mark finally turned to face Donghyuck, only to be met with his shit-eating grin. Glaring back, he snapped, “You know you’d have hit the centre if you asked for my help.”

“But that’s _cheating_ ,” He pouted, then returned to his smug demeanour, “and I don’t need or even want your help anyway.”

“Really?” Mark raised a brow, and Donghyuck finally felt the summer heat drop onto him like a stuffy blanket. “Alright, then prove it. Do it again.”

He mirrored Mark’s expression at the challenge, muttering his acceptance as the air crackled slightly around them. Donghyuck dropped his gun so he could unzip and wriggle out of his jacket, throwing it to the side and picking his weapon up again, all while bronze eyes burned into him. Ironically, he felt hotter now than he did without the jacket, and he sincerely hoped there were no awkward sweat patches on his T-shirt – maybe tucking it in was a little much for a hot day, there was literally zero breathing space in the damn thing. (He’d been trying to find out who designed these horrid training outfits, but hadn’t yet found the culprit.)

Donghyuck decided he may as well put the blame on the target. So, he lifted his arms as before, still not entirely used to the feel of the gun, but that helped him keep concentration. This wasn’t a bow and arrow, he couldn’t be lazy and still get a good shot, so he waited until his breathing had calmed, ignoring the shouts and gunshots and even Mark (who’d been proven difficult to ignore in the past couple of days).

This wasn’t his lightning either, so when a force suddenly knocked him sideways before he could even pull the trigger, it couldn’t swarm to life around him and be repurposed to counter or defend. By the time he knew what was happening, Mark had knocked his gun away and pinned his arms behind his back, pressing against his chest, so close Donghyuck could feel his breath again, light and steady. He hadn’t even broken a sweat: everything done in one single swift moment, as if it was the beginning of the training session again and all Head Lent had asked him to do was a quick demonstration of how to assemble a firearm. Squirming in Mark’s iron grip, Donghyuck assured himself the rush of heat that came over him then and resurfaced now was out of embarrassment, nothing else.

“ _And_ you’re dead.” Mark let go and Donghyuck all but leapt out of his arms. “Whoa, that’s a feisty ghost.”

“I’ll fucking haunt your sleep,” His nerves had collected a sea’s worth of saliva, so Donghyuck spat at the ground, towards the useless piece of metal called a gun. As expected, it hadn’t helped one bit. “Why do we even use these? Y’know magnetrons are a thing, right?”

The sigh that replied was more than enough warning for Donghyuck to tune out, it probably made its own storm cloud. “The Lakes barely have any magnetrons, it’d be dumb to replace all the firearms because of a non-existent threat…”

No, that didn’t sit right. Not that Donghyuck was particularly interested in war tactics, but he had the sense to pretend as if he was listening to the prince’s rant, even plopping down onto the dirt, and unfortunately had processed the first part of it. House Ogun were the only magnetrons he knew, and they gave the name its bad rep. Donghyuck didn’t trust them not to morph the gold of his robes into snakes, slithering around to strangle him, or straight up impale him (they could play it off as a prank – his bodyguard was a blood healer, after all).

“Aren’t you worried about your magnetrons turning against you?”

Mark froze, blinking. “Um… what?”

A confused prince any other time would’ve been something to snicker at, and maybe fawn a little over, but instead of either, Donghyuck scoffed with annoyance. “Everywhere you turn, there’s metal.” He waved his arms as he listed, “The weapons, the gates, the doors – there’s metal on our boots! It’d be so easy to- to-”

“To what? Stage a _coup?_ Are you even listening to yourself right now?” His voice rose with every question, and for a second Donghyuck was afraid of others hearing their argument-

 _No, let them hear_. He’d let them see for themselves their prince’s flaws, see his mask break. (He felt like himself again, riling up an old Guard by the docks as he outlined all the hypocrisy of the law, the old man’s pale face growing so bright it was on the verge of exploding with every snide comment. He felt the thrill of stirring the beast so it might kill him.) He shuffled so he could stand, not about to be talked down to for the whole argument.

Mark wasn’t easy to rile, but Donghyuck had made him raise his voice, the angles of his face sharpened by the taunt as he struggled not to glower. “House Ogun have been the most loyal family since the beginning of the New Era – and even if they did try something, metal _melts_.”

“Doesn’t it get more dangerous when it’s molten? I mean, that’s why you’re marrying the shiver.”

“I’m not marrying her, I’m being married _to_ her.” The parry was instant and scathing, venom dripping off the blade of his words as he muttered, “There’s a difference.”

Now he was glaring, and so was Donghyuck, because between the one with the fake identity and the one destined to rule the country, more lies hid in the reflections of the crown jewels. Glad he’d taken off his jacket, Donghyuck charged back with a hiss, “There’s a difference between sacrifice and slaughter, too, so if you’re so keen on being honest and true, _your highness_ , tell me the real reason why you still use metal bullets.”

A sharp inhale pierced the air, the temperature spiking, but there was no immediate reply. The space between them crackled in the silence – deafening, as accustomed – and threatened to consume them; Mark could walk away, ignore the order, ignore Donghyuck. But he’s a good soldier. If lightning struck the earth between them right then, Donghyuck wondered if either of them were strong enough to divert it, or if the ground would falter, breaking so it split apart, its gaping mouth eager to swallow them both. Donghyuck had an inkling towards which was the right answer.

After a deep sigh broke the quiet, Mark admitted, brows furrowed and voice tight, “You… can’t have soldiers acting out of line. If someone missteps, even if a Silver does, and gets away with it, it’s chaos. Everything falls apart. You’ve never been to the front, you’ve never been in that situation so you don’t get a say-”

It was so ridiculous he would’ve gotten away with laughing in the prince’s face, but the only fire burning right now was _furious_ , held back by chains as Donghyuck nearly screamed, “But it’s _my people_ you kill. When’s the last time a Silver didn’t return from the war, the only thing marking it a tiny little scar on the forearm, right before a blood healer erases it.”

“That doesn’t mean Silvers _haven’t_ died, and there’s a huge population difference so the percentages even out-”

“So that’s all we are? _Numbers?_ ” And this time he laughed, light and short, one single exasperated syllable. His head dropped, unable to look at Mark’s distressed face, every part sculpted down to the millimetre into the country’s greatest weapon. Like the sleek barrels of the guns they trained with, pretty things were often the most deadly. “And here I thought you were different.”

Mark’s sighs had escalated into frustrated half-growls, an arm folded over himself and the other held up to pinch the bridge of his nose. The air had dipped to an uncomfortable warm and he’d gotten quieter, voice cracking as he still argued, “I’m- I’m _trying_ , alright? That’s more than everyone else!”

Donghyuck waited a beat, deciding it wasn’t nearly enough. “Aren’t you the crown prince? Try harder.”

This time Mark scoffed, and the air charged with heat again, “It’s not that easy to end a war or change a law, there’s a _process_ , a system, if you’d just let me _explain_ -”

“Then _fuck the system!_ ” Donghyuck’s hands were in the air again, grasping for something to solve this mess (he didn’t know what it could be); at a loss, he muttered, “Maybe the Scarlet Guard have the right idea after all.”

“Those terrorists? You can’t be serious.” The air was starting to burn.

“What, don’t like ‘em just cause they blew up your house? The royals have done way worse, you know.” He paused to gesture to himself, the flamboyant action opposing his glare. “I’m proof.” 

The heat did a few more discombobulating flips, undecided between burning them both alive or melting them slowly through sweat. Mark was rubbing his face and hair in disbelief, not bothering to hide the anger in his growls as he retorted, “I saved your life – would you rather be dead? Locked up in a cell, tortured for research? Put in a case and displayed for entertainment?”

His brain was melting, eaten away by Mark’s stupid fire powers he can’t fucking control – Donghyuck just wanted this to be _over_. “If it’d keep me away from _you_ ,”

“Fine.” Mark withdrew, hands in the air as surrender while he stepped back. “I’ll go. See how it ends from your perspective, without even bothering to ask for _mine_.”

Donghyuck watched Mark’s figure fade back into the crowd, joining the rest of his kind. His presence slipped away, taking with it every ounce of heat until the air returned to its normal temperature. Donghyuck shivered.

Victory wasn’t quite so sweet a celebration for Reds as it was for Silvers.

-o-O-o-

 _Kaboom_.

It was a satisfying noise, more satisfying to smack the power pack, and the greatest pleasure of all imagining the prince’s perfect face on it as it exploded into shards and dust, sparking angrily while the room shook. Donghyuck shook the extra sparks off his hands as he whistled at his masterpiece, scattered into a billion tiny pieces across the expensive, probably a centuries-old hand-me-down carpet. He turned to Doyoung, gesturing for another battery to burst, but instead his expectant hand reached out to an empty space.

After a bit of pivoting, he found his teacher hiding behind a bookshelf, his location given away by the hushed curses spilling from his mouth. A grey-faced Doyoung crawled out, still mumbling profusely, “Renjun will actually skin me alive when he finds out the mess you’ve made, but then again there’s an actual chance _I’ll_ be tonight’s roast if you don’t redirect your anger onto innocent inanimate objects, so what do I fucking do? Just grab my cousin and tell him we’re doing target practice, except _oops_ you’re the target okay bye?”

“Y’know that third option doesn’t actually sound too bad,” Donghyuck tried, smirking as he yanked Doyoung the rest of the way out from his hiding place.

“Oh it definitely does,” Doyoung seemed to regain some of his wits, his terror now fuelling his rapidly shaking head, “we are _not_ doing that.” So, he reached in a box for another power pack, this time bulkier than the last.

Holding it was like being silenced, so Donghyuck promptly got rid of it in another deafening boom, though this time not quite as spectacular as the last. He hummed at the debris on the carpet as Doyoung continued to fret next to him, muttering about some other imminent death, the name Renjun popping up again, and only then did Donghyuck realise he had never been properly introduced to this infamous Red servant. The guy who rigged his whole game, and they’d never even met (the five-second encounter as he and Mark fled the palace didn’t count, nor did their brief meeting on the first day of Donghyuck’s wonderful stay).

His thoughts were cut off by a loud bang that wasn’t his doing, though he could tell it was Jaehyun by watching Doyoung’s reactions: shocked, delighted, pondering, then offended. Donghyuck often thought his teacher could narrate a book just by facial contortions, but then a fifth, concerned look crossed his face, and Donghyuck had to turn around. The cause of this new emotion was Jaehyun’s lack of perfection as he stumbled over, panting, hair tousled even more as he dragged a hand through it. Yet even in his clear distress, the man did not speak, so Donghyuck only glared.

The cause for Jaehyun’s distress (hence the cause of Doyoung’s distress) was a blond boy bouncing over to the centre of the room, unbothered by the stench of burnt wires and static air, as he beamed at his audience. Blinking, Donghyuck recognised the boy, but only when the blond opened his bottle of water and started snaking it up to smooth down Jaehyun’s hair did he finally remember.

“Chenle?”

Doyoung groaned, “What do you want, little demon?”

The nymph faked a gasp and let the water drop so it splashed all over Jaehyun’s head and down to his top. Raising a brow at the act (not missing Doyoung’s audible gulp either), Donghyuck wondered why anyone would be afraid of this squeaky little boy. It had gotten to the point where he assumed House Zhong had survived purely out of the royal family’s pity, for it was the smallest House beside Haechan’s, and its head was the youngest of them all.

And here was the Head, pouting at them while the two eldest Silvers held their breath.

Cutting the act, Chenle rolled his eyes as he picked up the water right from where it had dropped, Jaehyun instantly dry, before he dropped it right on the carpet. He tutted at the mess of debris, “Renjun is really gonna have your ass, old man, you got shards of everything in here! You know this is technically his grandmother’s, right? ‘Cause this library belongs to the Sais, which is the only reason he got to snag it in the first place-”

“ _Renjun_ was meant to tell you to stay out.” However, Doyoung was glaring at Jaehyun, who shrugged in response.

“Injunnie doesn’t give a shit what you want,” Chenle scoffed, glancing at Donghyuck so they both grinned.

“Renjun’s biased.”

“Naturally.” He shrugged, not bothering to hide his proud smirk, and Donghyuck decided right then that he liked this kid.

But still, “Renjun seems to be the man of the hour, so how come I’ve never met him?”

Chenle snapped his fingers in his direction, squealing, “And that’s what I’m here for!”

“Really?” Donghyuck pointed at himself with a dramatic gasp, Doyoung actually slapping his forehead as he whimpered in pain.

“Please, Chenle, one is bad enough, but the _two_ of them?”

“It’s Lord Zhong to you, and much like Injunnie, I don’t give a shit what you want either.”

Doyoung groaned, “I’m about to die prematurely,” and walked away, probably to bang his head against a wall.

“As if that wasn’t gonna happen anyways,” Donghyuck muttered, eliciting a screechy giggle from Chenle.

Jaehyun huffed, moving to comfort Doyoung a few aisles over, and Chenle moved to stir up the water, picking up all the dusty shards with it before floating it over to the bin and plopping it down. Straight after, the water jumped back up, free of rubbish, and Chenle pocketed it back in its bottle.

Donghyuck narrowed his eyes, glancing between the bottle and the bin and the carpet, “How the fuck did you do that?”

He hummed, “Control.” Grabbing Donghyuck’s arm, he turned and made for the doors. “Anyways, we have a meeting to get to, the rest of today is cancelled, royal orders,” He whispered the next parts, “ _forged_ , by the way, but that’s Injunnie’s specialty so we might as well milk it, right?”

Donghyuck let himself be dragged along, his smile only widening at every word the nymph rattled out – now he understood why Jisung was so smitten. They stepped out into the corridor and all around him the wires buzzed their greetings, the lights tipped their hats, and the fans blew warm kisses. Chenle continued to ramble about this and that, sunlight glittering off his squinting eyes, and Donghyuck began to form a theory as to how Chenle had managed to be the last nymph standing at the palace: _gossip_. If he remembered correctly, Jisung had mentioned taking his notes from court to the newspapers, where he handed them over to whom he thought was the owner’s son, but Donghyuck now knew had been the owner himself.

He only interrupted Chenle once, and that was because he just had to know: “What secrets do you have that even the queen’s so scared of you?”

Chenle had only pursed his lips and tapped his nose, stating, “The pen isn’t just mightier than the sword, it’s also mightier than the crown – no matter who wears it.”

“So what, you got some royal pornography?”

Surprisingly, _yes_ , and Chenle belched at the mention, “Ew, don’t remind me – you know every single monarch has had a consort except the current king? The only thing more disturbing is that all of them – _every single one_ – decided to keep records of _everything_ … I don’t wanna think about what my mother had to do to get her hands on those tapes.” He shivered, and Donghyuck chuckled.

They turned down another corridor as Chenle kept talking, “There are other things too, stuff I can’t possibly tell you,” he paused for effect, lips in a thin line to hide a smile, before proceeding, “but I’m bored and everyone’s too scared to make conversation with me so I’m telling you because you’re here and willing.

“It would take hours to explain the absolute bullshittery that is the Cific Accords, so we’ll skip that. The king has concubines, but that’s hardly a secret, right? There’s a long, long list of nobles who’ve abruptly fallen ill or had terrible accidents, I mean even queen Stella was- oh, but Doyoung probably told you all about that already, I mean, seeing as Jaehyun literally _can’t_ , so-”

“Hold on, what about queen Stella? Jaehyun can’t what?”

“Don’t you know?” Seeming equally shocked as Donghyuck, Chenle opened his mouth and closed it a couple times before he continued softly, “Queen Isla cut his tongue out. Jaehyun’s mute.”

 _What_.

Donghyuck halted in his tracks. He flinched. He tensed, unable to move a single muscle because all his power was going into processing the information Chenle had just dumped on him. _Oh_. With a sharp inhale, he understood. Then the sea of nausea hit, collecting at the throat, preventing him from replying with anything other than the strangled “ _Mmhm_ ” that served to worry Chenle into squeaking out a string of apologies. The scene (that attracted at least a few stares from passing servants) ended with Chenle shoving Donghyuck until he snapped to some level of sense so he could walk the rest of the way to wherever the fuck they were supposed to be going because _what the fuck_ , had he really been a total dick simply because Jaehyun wouldn’t talk? Except now he knew that he literally _couldn’t_ , and that shouldn’t have been needed to make him rethink his treatment, except that was exactly what had happened, and now he felt _terrible_.

“I’m a terrible person,” was the first thing he said when the doors to the pantry opened to an unimpressed Renjun.

He gave Donghyuck’s green face a once-over before turning to Chenle, “Is there any _actual_ news he needs to tell me about or can we get to plotting?”

The nymph whispered back, hand beside his mouth even though Donghyuck could still hear every word, “I don’t think he knew about Jaehyun, and I just told him.”

Renjun whispered back, though it was more of a hiss, “That’s all? Tell him that that big oaf is literally incapable of holding grudges – I mean, Doyoung is proof of that – did you _see_ them practically eye-fucking at the last Gathering?”

“Oh, god,” Donghyuck finally retrieved his senses, grimacing at the images Renjun had just given him, “please, I don’t wanna know.”

“The clown’s awake!” Renjun finally addressed him, tapping his shoulder; Donghyuck narrowed his eyes. “Sorry, it’s just you have to be pretty dumb to make a deal with the devil, but that’s why _I’m_ here.” And he gave a lazy, arrogant grin – one that Donghyuck himself had worn many times, so the desire to punch him was slightly outweighed by the recognition of a new partner in crime; instead, he grinned back.

Chenle gently tapped Renjun’s hand to let go of Donghyuck, adding, “Honestly, the only reason Isla hasn’t turned this whole country Nazi is because of this guy,”

Donghyuck blinked, “What’s Nazi?”

The other two stared blankly for a moment, before Chenle started giggling and Renjun sighed, “First things first, okay?”

Starting to get frustrated, Donghyuck glared, “Then what’s first?”

His answer came in a tiny little paper.

-o-O-o-

Donghyuck didn’t want to be sneaking out for the second night in a row, yet here he was, pitch black cloak brushing the floor, its hood obscuring cheeks reddened by the cold, while he hid behind a pillar as he watched the Sentinels pass. The note Renjun had given him had definitely said to meet past that wall – in the orchard next to the greenhouse – at this time. Well, he hoped he’d remembered it all right, because the paper dissolved as quickly in his tea as its message had appeared, but Donghyuck liked to think his memory was decent. (He’d been smashed the night before, yet still remembered every weird thing that happened.) Though, the time was merely stated as ‘ _when the moon is fully visible_ ’, and all that Donghyuck saw above was black. The tufts of grey suggested they were clouds, and he’d either missed the time or he was quite early.

Either way, the guards promptly disappeared, and he assumed it was Renjun’s nifty work that no others showed up to replace them. He let himself smile at the empty courtyard, free to stroll across, enter the courtyard, even pick an apple and eat it, the crunches as he chewed the only noise in the waiting night. Any other time, and he’d have felt quite exposed, openly leaning against a tree, its branches his only cover, but tonight Donghyuck couldn’t care less. For one, he doubted anyone would go this far just to trick him out of the palace (and into an early grave), certainly not Renjun with his reputation, and if the plan was to go wrong and he got caught, he wouldn’t mind finally escaping this den of snakes and getting some peace without the royal family breathing down his neck (literally as well as figuratively); death was simply a side effect, and considering how his day had gone, Donghyuck would have welcomed it.

In all his pondering, he hadn’t noticed that the crunching had continued, even though his apple was currently stripped down to a core, rotting away in some earth where he’d thrown it. Donghyuck hopped into a crouch, observing the bushes by the densest part of the orchard, where nothing but a flimsy fence separated it from the Ash Forest; in the night, all the grey trunks and blackish leaves melded into one big dark blur, so it was pointless trying to anticipate an attack – Donghyuck could’ve been a pheasant, dead meat on legs – and he should’ve been, but it seemed as though his hunters wanted him alive. Glaring out into the blackness, he raised his hand in case any lightning might be needed-

“Donghyuck?”

He almost fell spinning round to identify the speaker, and nearly burnt their cloak as a spark shot out of his fingers and set the grass beside their feet on fire. Immediately, the fire swirled up into the air, as though swimming, higher and higher, until it fizzled out.

Donghyuck watched it go, then turned to face Rachael, exclaiming, “What the fuck are _you_ doing here?”

Hands in the air, Rachael returned his bewilderment in full force, “The fuck’re _you_ doing here? You should be asleep!”

He let his jaw drop, offended, “Um, what about _her highness?_ Princess of hypocrisy?”

She rolled her eyes, “Yeah, but I won’t be killed if I’m found; you, on the other hand…”

Donghyuck grabbed her arm, hoping it’d shut her up (it just made her mumble a dictionary’s worth of more warnings). “Okay, but _why_ are you here?”

At that, she paused. Lips in a thin line, Donghyuck held his stare as her eyes flickered across his. Eventually, she nodded, shutting her eyes as she sighed, “Right.” Then she opened them, their sharp glow in full force, piercing into Donghyuck’s gaze so it held him in place.

She answered, “I’m joining the Scarlet Guard.”

Shock could only describe a fraction of the betrayal Donghyuck felt – for one, the Scarlet Guard’s standards were literally _that high_ that they wanted _royalty_ , for another this whole recruitment wasn’t even a special event solely for the Red acting Silver (would he ever receive recognition for his troubles?), and as the cherry on top, Rachael was as hopeless as Mark. The only thing stopping him from face-palming right there and launching into a row right then was a voice from behind, from the Ash Forest. A voice he recognised only by the way it sent his blood fleeing into the soles of his shoes, the heat drained out of him as he gulped, and suddenly he wished Rachael had the warm aura Mark did just so he’d feel a little safer.

“ _Really_ getting into that fiancé role, aren’t you?” Taeyong’s low voice rumbled from the shadows, and Donghyuck hated the hint of amusement in it.

With an empty chuckle, Donghyuck gave his best ‘please-the-Guards’ smile, “Yes, also, _I’m_ the one joining the Scarlet Guard,” he glanced at Rachael, who wore her shock much worse, “not her.”

She could only glare as her retort was cut off by Taeyong, “And why not? I assume she’d be more help than you.”

Rachael’s expression steeled into the mask Donghyuck knew from their ever pleasant breakfasts with the queen – a mask that Donghyuck was still terrible at emulating because he scowled outright at the man before him, anger overpowering his fear. Still, Donghyuck wasn’t good enough. Still, the Scarlet Guard were dicks. Still, everyone was a fucking hypocrite.

_But she’s- she’s-_

Though the princess had firmly placed herself on Haechan’s side, and had been, for the most part, _friendly_ , he’d dare say – Donghyuck couldn’t trust a Silver. The only one he’d begun to trust, who he wasn’t using for his benefit like Doyoung or Jaehyun or Chenle, had given him a painful reminder earlier that day why Silvers were the enemy. A burn, healable on the surface, but beneath it still held the dead tissue that even the best blood healer couldn’t revive.

The air in his lungs felt thin, poisonous. He was tired of pretending to be something he hated, treated different because of it, still treated worse than normal because he was Red-born, and, oh, even if he’d made a mask out of the thickest steel, the strongest stone, here it would’ve crumbled under his trembling breath.

“But she’s _Silver_ ,” Donghyuck finally spat, without a care for the sparks lashing from his clenched fists. Maybe the moon would have been fully visible, if he wasn’t so terrible.

And then there were bony, calloused hands on his, a voice he’d heard just last night but he could only remember like it was years ago soothing him – again, like last night. Everything seemed to be centred around then, like the awful star of a collapsing solar system. He could make himself forget the prince, but never Jeno.

“You’re doing that thing again.” Donghyuck was too embarrassed to look up, but he could hear Jeno’s sad smile. “Don’t do the thing. Please.” _And_ there comes the whininess, and Donghyuck’s glad he wasn’t looking because Jeno’s puppy eyes were _lethal_.

Donghyuck finally exhaled, laughing slightly, “Alright, stop, or I’ll aim a bolt right at you.”

A different person replied, scoffing, “If you can even control the fucking thing.”

With a grimace, Donghyuck remembered that voice too. Rather than shivers, this one sent his blood boiling with the urge to punch him straight up the jaw. Or stick a dagger up his ass.

“Seriously, what even are you? You’re like Silver, but your blood is Red,” Jaemin cackled as he had the realisation, “and you’re pissed because we’re hiring _another Silver?_ ”

Thankfully, the brat was silenced by one grunt from Taeyong, and Donghyuck revelled in the momentary shame that flickered on Jaemin’s face, right before they returned to their glaring contest. To his surprise, Donghyuck won the contest, as the other boy’s expression melted in an instant after seeing something- behind Donghyuck? Next to him? Narrowing his eyes, he searched and saw no one but Rachael with her neutral expression and Jeno looking disappointed- oh.

Hold on, why was Jeno even here?

“ _Oh_ , _fucking_ _hell!_ ”

“Hyuck, let me explain-”

“That’s it for the family reunion.” Taeyong stepped between the three. With one nod of his chin, Jeno scrambled back to the Scarlet Guard, where a crowd of a good dozen had now slunk from the shadows of the woods. To Donghyuck’s dismay, Jeno settled alarmingly close to Jaemin; to his outrage, Jaemin took his hand; to his disbelief, Jeno’s grip visibly _tightened_.

He would’ve locked eyes with Jeno directly, have one of those mental conversations where he’d scream _‘what the fuck is going on?’_ except the chance evaded him, and Rachael mirrored the couple on the other side by taking his hand; he shook it off. He didn’t care to see her reaction.

Once Taeyong knew he had everyone’s full attention, the only sounds of the night the eerie whistle of the wind and bristle of the trees, he spoke, “I know it’s unorthodox, recruiting a Silver, but change has to happen some way. No one will win if we all discriminate.” Donghyuck barely stifled a scoff. “Still, I need to know your reasons for requesting to help.” _In case you’re actually not helping at all_ , Donghyuck filled in. He wanted to scoff again – who’d put the princess on espionage?

But then he felt Rachael tense beside him, a disturbing warmth seeping out; it was different from what he was used to, as it was almost a cold fire, lukewarm and nervous. The fact she’d let it slip at all was enough to make Donghyuck reach for her hand again, cursing himself for getting blinded by his own problems and blaming the person nearest, as usual.

Luckily, the act seemed to do the trick, and the stale warmth vanished with one breath as she answered, “I’m not sure how much you know about Silvers and their life, but most nobles are sent to the front in their adolescence. It’s pretty much a ritual at this point, but what I learned there, I believe is different from the rest of my kind. The courts aren’t particularly fond of me for my lineage, so they sent me to the Red barracks, and honestly? It was the best thing that could’ve happened.”

And then, _fuck_ , Donghyuck understood why the country was smitten: her genuine little smile, her cold eyes softened, her bashful tuck of a strand of hair behind a rosy ear. He knew what those were symptoms of, and so he knew the rest of the story before she even told it.

“Reds are _fun_. They’re more human than Silvers. They don’t deserve to be born into servitude, no one does.” She sighed, “I think they were the only friends I ever had, and you know what happened to them?”

Taeyong didn’t even blink. “They died.”

She tensed again, returning to hide in her mask as her lips thinned. “Lake Redbone. A fitting name. We were ambushed, and I’m not surprised the only Silver there at the time was me. It’s because it was me, that the Red soldiers, _my friends_ , were sent out. You know what they were?” And she let the mask break, her voice cracking as she began to shout, tears glinting in her eyes. “A human shield. Flesh and bone, staining the waters red, redder than the clay of the banks, so I knew it was theirs. Not a single general, Sentinel, or whatever fucking murderer told me, so I learned for myself.” She took a deep breath that turned into a sob; Donghyuck squeezed her hand, unable to look at her in a way that wasn’t pity. “I found their bodies rotten with maggots in a ditch. The least I could do was turn them into ashes.”

“Mother wouldn’t let me send them to their families. My brother wasn’t even willing to pull _his_ strings. The next time I was sent to war, it was at the Silver barracks, and you know what happened there? Nothing.” She laughed, a little hysterical. “’Less afternoon tea counts. And a _whole_ _load_ of adultery.”

The clearing was silent for a minute, before Jaemin ruined it all by clapping, the sound stinging Donghyuck’s ears. “Damn, now _that_ is a backstory! Still doesn’t compare to mine though, so I think we should skip her out, Yong-”

Taeyong ignored him, simply tilting his head at the princess, uttering, “So?”

Donghyuck really wanted to punch them. One of them. All of them. But then Jeno was there, and he’d probably just block him and hold him back. And Rachael, who had just poured her soul out and still, _still_ , wasn’t worthy. Even here, not in the palace. She’d mentioned feeling like the shadow of a flame once, and even out of the royal scene, Donghyuck saw how it fit.

Resolutely, the princess upturned her chin, unfazed by Taeyong’s bluntness. “ _So_ , I would like my debts repaid tenfold. I’ll join you as long as I get to kill them. But really, it was only a matter of time before rebellion happened,” She finally turned to Donghyuck, a different spark in her icy blue irises, “and I’d like to be on the right side when it all kicks off.”

But Rachael wasn’t the shadow of the flame in anything other than name; she was blue, where Mark was red, and Donghyuck knew enough to know that blue fire burned hotter. Those that mistook her colour for a shadow were fools, playing her game. Donghyuck realised it was a game, when Rachael first started speaking: unhinged, emotional. Played-up. There could have been truth to her story, but the omission of one thing he was certain of.

“Alright, you’re recruited.” As simple as that, Taeyong brushed them off and made for the woods. Another pair of Reds bounded up to give each of them a red bandana, the symbol of the Scarlet Guard, which Rachael snatched while Donghyuck lifted it warily.

And then he burst out, “It’s that fucking easy?” Honestly, he didn’t know if he was referring to Rachael’s morphed tale or his own lack of needing to do a single thing, but if Taeyong walked up to him again he’d _definitely_ punch him.

The man only chuckled from the darkness, “Really, kid, you were hired the day we met. I was just toying with you.”

Oh, Donghyuck was gonna fucking _disintegrate_ the bastard.

Rachael held him back, barely, drawing his attention by pulling his sleeve. He turned back, expecting her to be wearing that mask, only to find her looking, well, _sad_. She fiddled with the red cloth, the clench of her jaw from grinding her teeth, and Donghyuck winced. Obviously, the story wasn’t a complete lie. The original memories probably still hurt, to an extent.

He took her hand, its temperature lukewarm, and tentatively asked, “Why didn’t you mention him?”

Because he needed to know there was a reason for this. That she wasn’t a spy. (As Taeyong hadn’t cared to be thorough at all with his interrogation.)

She stiffened, and Donghyuck was sure she’d pull away, but she never did. He stayed holding the hand of a statue until it finally came back to life, breathing, so quiet and small he almost missed it: “Her.”

Donghyuck couldn’t stop his initial shock, but then he understood – he probably understood better than anyone. He mumbled a warning before hugging her tight, swinging them slightly in an effort to comfort her, because, well, he didn’t want to lose his only palace friend, right? The Silver that taught him how to act, who to avoid; who led him through shortcuts so he wouldn’t miss another Training session or Etiquette lesson; who always knew when he was nervous and held his hand, giving a squeeze to remind him that she, at least, was there.

A cough from behind signalled for them to break apart, Donghyuck turning to glare at the intrusion. Of course, it was Jaemin, shooting them a withering look, “You’re either really good actors, or I’m gonna puke at the cliché.”

Donghyuck rolled his eyes, “Geez, we’re _friends_ , friends can _hug_.”

Thankfully, Jeno took his side, “To be fair, Hyuck is just really touchy. He’s like that with everyone, except people he hates, like you.”

Jaemin wiped the non-existent sweat off his forehead, “Oh, I’m so relieved – in fact, I am _overjoyed_.”

But then Jeno added, “You should see him with her brother, if you want the real romance.”

Donghyuck’s jaw dropped. _Ridiculous_. Couldn’t he even trust his best friend to remain loyal? _This is your fucking fault, Jaemin, tainting sweet Jeno._ “If I recall, you’re the one who tried to smooch me in front of his highness. Tell me, if that wasn’t jealousy?”

At least that riled Jaemin up – his expression was hilarious. Shock and disbelief, and _so_ offended. Jeno coughed, clearly embarrassed, “You were drunk, you probably don’t remember all of it.”

And now he was lying, too. Good gracious. Donghyuck’s brows furrowed in disappoint. On the other hand, Jaemin finally found the mind to speak, “ _Excuse me?_ What the hell _else_ happened, then?”

“Nothing!” They both snapped.

Jeno sighed, “Fine, I admit I did try to kiss you, but honestly it was out of spite more than anything.”

 _Spite?_ Donghyuck wanted to bury his face in his hands – one week without him and Jeno was suddenly a delinquent. Or maybe that came with being unemployed. Fuck, Ten would know, he’d been the king of delinquency.

Then Jaemin’s jaw gaped, “Oh gods, you’re being serious about the prince thing?”

Finally, Rachael stepped out from hiding behind Donghyuck, yapping at the boys, “Can you all fuck off?”

Jaemin muttered assent and turned to leave, but Jeno yanked him back, “Wait, not yet, okay?”

Donghyuck narrowed his eyes, suddenly realising his bad mood was probably due to lack of sleep. What was it now, four in the morning? He muttered, “Come any closer, Jeno Lee, and I will smack you to the moon.”

Jaemin moaned back, “Right, just don’t fry him while you’re at it. He’s bony, not good meat.”

Betrayed, Jeno frowned at Jaemin, wondering why he was being bullied by the both of them. Donghyuck grinned at the sight, “Don’t worry, Jen, that right is reserved for dear Jaemin alone.”

He returned the smile with sickly sweetness, “I’m _touched_ , my lord.”

“But he’s bonier?” Jeno winced as Jaemin pinched him, then shoved him forward into the slap-zone.

Donghyuck, however, would not slap him. He folded his arms, waiting for whatever Jeno needed to do to say goodbye. _If it’s another fucking kiss attempt, I swear-_

But then Jeno took his arm, unfolded it, and placed something in his palm. When their fingers brushed, he noticed how Jeno flinched slightly at the static, but before he could apologise Jeno was speaking.

“I know I’m not technically your brother, but at this point, we may as well be, huh? And I also know I’m not actually going to war, or _the_ war, since I guess a rebellion is technically another kind of war, but just- don’t freak out, but I really wanted to give you this. Jisung, as well, so there’s two.”

At the mention of his brother, Donghyuck felt his entire being melt, float, become the physical embodiment of a sigh as a person. He sounded dumb, he was that eager, as he launched into his questions, “How is he? Is he well? Are his legs still good? How did they even heal? Are Honey and Saph okay? Did the king keep his promise, do you have food and water and is the lec finally working and-”

“Donghyuck.” Jeno shushed him, chuckling as he froze up. “Yes, they’re fine. And you know how I always said Jisung was indestructible? I’m a prophet. He cut his hand on the lec box and it healed within the night! Don’t gasp, it only left a small puddle.” He hit him; Jeno didn’t budge – he had a feeling he only smiled more. “And the mothers are fine, I think they’re enjoying the unending supply of bread from the Guards.”

Donghyuck beamed at all the news, hugging Jeno one last time, saying their goodbyes. It was only after he had given Jaemin the finger as they faded into the shadows that Rachael nudged him to leave, and he had the chance to look at the gift Jeno had left him. He knew what it was going to be, but still couldn’t stop the tears when he opened it and saw the gems shimmering back up at him, like a bright little gaze. Dark green, probably agate, and golden amber: his House colours, but also Jeno and Jisung’s favourites. He chuckled at the irony, then laughed more at the fact the idiots probably did it on purpose so it’d actually match his attire. How awful his garish red and purple from Tsubaki and Ten must look against his robes, broadcast to the entire nation, that his best friend and brother would purposefully send him some matching earrings. Of course, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t still wear the other two.

Rachael’s voice brought him back to reality, where they were perched overlooking a couple of drunk Sentinels, still waiting for them to fall asleep, “Pass me your bandana.”

Shoving the earrings into his pocket, he frowned at her, “Why?”

“Are you thick?” Even at his glare, she didn’t falter. “I’m going to burn them. They’re evidence.”

Temporary shock prevented him from instantly seeing the reason – but even then Donghyuck was aghast at the suggestion, shaking his head while Rachael nearly growled in frustration.

“Please, don’t be naïve. They gave us these as a certificate, to say we passed, and they’re going to expect us to be smart enough to get rid of these so that they can’t be used against us.”

As wrong as the thought felt, Donghyuck saw her point. It wouldn’t be smart at all, keeping a certificate that basically states ‘certified traitor’ in bold. With a heavy heart, and still frowning immensely, making sure to pout and reap all the guilt he could from the princess, Donghyuck fished out the red cloth. The Sentinels were snoring below, and Rachael’s fire was hot enough to burn the fabric into ashes near instantly. The smoke blew towards the Ash Forest, returning home.

Miraculously, no one caught them. Maybe someone did, and took pity on the supposed lovebirds. Either way, for the first time, Donghyuck found relief in the sheets of his rich, quilted bed, in his stuffy room, alone.

Yes, he was alone in person, but he was never alone in heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes rach is a lying b but hey so is hyuck atm  
> (not all of her story is fake,, if u know u know)  
> and can u guess what's up w/ jisung??? and ten i guess haha  
> protecc doyoung from the dreamies, and yes im sorry abt jaehyun but this is like the worst thing ive done to anyone it never gets worse i promise :((  
> im sorryyy for more mh disagreements and yes ik mark is a dick here BUT we haven't heard the full story, and also remember he's practically been indoctrinated since a child as the future king, so not all those ideas are his  
> jaemin is a brat and im devastated that i cut his pov where he recruits jeno bc that was,, cute but ANYWAYS  
> quarantine life and coursework has me losing The Will so updates will be sporadic from now on... im so sorry i rlly wanted to get to at least the heckin kiss by now but, stuff just piles up huh  
> please comment to motivate me bc i might have time at the end of the week to write for once (if the teachers aren't lying about having set all the work and don't give us MORE fking past papers,,, yikes)


	11. don't look too close (don't you dare)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one week has passed since the fight!!  
> \+ a new character...  
> -  
> guys what this one is 9k WHAT  
> i would've split it but it wouldn't make sense plus u guys deserve this for waiting :')  
> im sorry if this is bad my brain cells are on coronacation this was so hard to write oof

Silvers had a new thing to celebrate every week, it seemed. Donghyuck had been at god knows how many feasts and evenings in a bare two weeks since he’d been at the palace – terrible occasions for him, really, because it meant tripping over lies and interacting with the racist snobs who often spiked his drinks and caught him in empty corridors. It’s not that he couldn’t deal with them – in fact, these poor attempts at intimidation only infuriated Donghyuck more about the palace. Back in the Stilts, he’d been a hair’s breadth away from death at almost every turn. Just breathing was a risk, considering all the pollution; a nice drink could have toxic chemicals mixed in – the way that a few of the rowdy fisher boys went after nights out; any job available involved either dangerous tools or a dangerous environment (most of the time, both). Dealing with perverts and bullies had been the easy part.

What shook him were the constant fixed gazes, analysing, searching for a crack. Honestly, Haechan had too many cracks to count on his fingers, it’s just the Silvers who bothered to look were too dumb to figure them out. Only House Emira’s members, so far, had ever outright interrogated him, or even challenged the queen herself about his position. He remembered how Priya’s hand had caught his arm during training, pulling him out of his fight with Chenle, her cold hiss causing his entire body to bristle – “ _Let’s test what you are, Red-born_.” He was sure his heart had stopped beating when she forced his sleeve up, the daggered nail of her thumb poised to ruin his life in one quick slash.

Luckily, no blood had been shed that day; unluckily, it was Mark who had stepped in to the rescue.

Even more unfortunate was that today, the Silvers were celebrating the birth of their dear beloved future king.

Donghyuck was adamant that he would remain in the corner of the hall for as long as possible, rather than weave between the snakes and foxes, and risk encountering the lion himself. He was only there because of the stupid engagement, which only happened because of his stupid powers, which he only ever found out because of stupid Mark trying to play hero. He seemed to be the root of all his problems, one huge garden that all grew from the same awful spot, overcrowded and dying. Unfortunately, there was no way to remove the root without killing the flowers, so Donghyuck grit his teeth as he nodded at all the nobles that passed, pretending to busy himself with a flute of champagne (when really he was just kissing the glass).

“That glass has gotten further with you than anyone in the country,” Rachael observed, finally out of whatever dungeon the maids had been keeping her in, prepping her for the night; why, Donghyuck didn’t get, but he appreciated that the princess looked stunning, but incredibly like a doll. Her smoky eyeshadow made her look alarmingly older, the fit of her dress highlighting her figure – too much for a sixteen-year-old, Donghyuck thought – though he didn’t miss the sparkling black opal necklace sitting on her collarbones, a ‘gift’ from House Beryl.

He moved the drink from his lips, “I’m sure you mean the palace, and that you don’t assume I am still pure.”

She snatched the drink from his hands, downing it right before a waiter passed and she set it on his tray. Her cheeks puffed as she stifled a burp, contrasting every other part of her sleek velvet-lined dress. “So you haven’t been doing it with the birthday boy.”

He wished he still had his glass, so he could choke on his drink and spit it at her. “ _Why_ would you ever even _think_ -”

She held her finger out, shushing him, before downing another glass of champagne (where she got it, Donghyuck had no clue), “You see, I noticed the way you act around each other. It’s different, is all I’ll say. It’s more different now though, so I assumed, maybe,” Donghyuck’s brows were pinching drastically as he glared down, Rachael pursing her lips as she tried not to smile, “that you made a little _mistake?_ ”

Face-palming, he groaned, “No, _never_ , I’m avoiding him because I _don’t_ like him!”

Rachael just hummed, “Shame, then. It would’ve been good to have Mark under our control.” She sighed, opera glove stark against her snowy cheeks, “And what a story!”

Donghyuck’s face contorted even more, if that was possible, “What, you want me to _woo_ him? The asshole reserved purely for war tactics?”

“Oh, come on,” She waved her arm, nearly slapping Donghyuck, to which he hissed in warning, “anyone can out-woo the ice queen, there won’t be competition. I feel like you’re halfway there, anyway – wasn’t he the one who brought you here?”

He scoffed at her for the first time since that day in the throne room, head pounding from the way he was mentally screaming in protest at every word coming out of the princess’s mouth, at how he was using every ounce of restraint not to yell at her, at least not _here_. “You are sorely mistaken if you believe I was a whore before I was dragged here – that I _ever_ was a whore.”

“I never said that!” She furrowed her brows, plopping her third (fourth?) glass on the next passing tray. “Honestly, you seem to take offense at anything. You should feel complimented, that you have the princess’s blessing to pursue her dearest brother.”

“Because you _are_ being offensive, and ridiculous, and now you’re drunk.”

She pouted, but stumbled and fell into his arms a moment later. As Donghyuck scolded her, she broke into a fit of tipsy giggles, ignoring his complaints as she snagged him in a hug. Donghyuck wished he had died, had been outed as a spy, had already had his terrible ‘accident’ ordered by the queen, as he failed to hold the princess steady in front of countless eager eyes.

He snapped, “Do you realise what this looks like?”

Rachael’s only reply was a familiar laughter, light and airy, one that Donghyuck paired an entirely different face to. He gulped, shaking the thought away, finally prying her vice grip off his tuxedo. Then a shadow appeared, looming over Rachael’s smiling face where she was dangling by Donghyuck’s arm; he barely caught his tongue when he finally looked up, gasping at who he saw.

Morana would have been lost on a winter night, perfect white amid the gaudy multi-colours of the rest of the guests, her dress so dazzling it nearly blinded Donghyuck, even in the dimly lit corner. (It was times like this he envied being a girl, allowed to dress up so pretty.) Her eyes flicked over him disapprovingly as he straightened, until she turned to the princess blowing bubbles in his grasp.

She raised a brow, expectant. “Well?”

Donghyuck maintained his glare, “Well what?”

He could see her jaw clench in irritation, her cough restrained as she elaborated, “Hand me the princess, Red-born.”

“How do I know she’s safe with you?” Of course she’d be safe. Donghyuck knew enough to know Rachael and Morana were actually friends, as weird as it sounded. He just didn’t like Morana.

She blinked hard, and Donghyuck had to bite back an evil grin seeing her wound up so much. “Right. I forgot how awkward you are, Lord Beryl, but I must insist that I take the princess off your hands,” she stepped closer, arm already around Rachael’s waist, “ _before_ Sir Vildred storms over here.”

Donghyuck forced himself not to react – he’d been practising hiding his emotions, to varied results – as he considered her reason. It wouldn’t do good for the bastard to catch the princess drunk, and it would only be a worse scene if Haechan was there. So, he relented, carefully lifting Rachael until Morana held her safely. He shouldn’t have been surprised at the ease with which the shiver lifted her, bridal style might he add, but his shock was shot down by a series of drunken shouts from across the hall.

He whipped round to see a bunch of rowdy Silvers, all late teens or twenty-somethings, toasting their drinks as they lifted up and batted around the prince. By the end of the show Mark’s hair was definitely ruined, but Donghyuck only felt pity for the maids who spent an hour taming it. He could vaguely make out Lucas saying something teary-eyed about him being so proud of Mark, bringing up an old story about him burning down the chicken coop on a trip to the farming towns – the area that the Peregries govern, Donghyuck remembered Rachael relay to him. The other men took turns going around, and Donghyuck quickly tuned out, returning to face Morana.

She had a look as if she knew something Donghyuck didn’t.

Morana leaned forward, and Donghyuck realised she was slightly taller in her heels; her ice-cold breath lashing his skin, she whispered, “You can have him, if I can have her.”

With that, she turned, leaving Donghyuck severely confused. Did she mean for the night, or something else, something more? He grunted, snatching a glass from the next passing waiter, so violently the poor boy swayed in his place. Donghyuck would need some alcohol if he wanted to survive the snakes, slithering up to him in troves, their glittering scales never distracting from their fangs.

-o-O-o-

The closest room free of electricity was, of course, the toilets. Luckily, the public toilets by the hall weren’t far away, they were big and sparkling clean after all the preparation for the ball, and even the Silvers had enough decency so as not to place cameras in the toilets. Though, they were a little stuffy, but then Donghyuck had just sprinted down several corridors and woven through tens of dozens of nobles. He slammed the door shut behind him, gasping in air so furiously he’d definitely have hiccups in a few minutes.

Things had been going swimmingly at the party for a while – swimmingly as in Donghyuck could swim very well, except he was also a living taser, and a few little quips from Haechan were as good as zaps to scare off the prying Silvers. Swimmingly, as in he was like a fish, and he finally got caught in the net when Priya came prowling over with the Ogun twins in tow (even at Mark’s ball they wore those ridiculous top-knots – at least it was clear where all their brain cells had been lost).

He got cut from the net by Lucas just to be set into the jaws of a shark – yes, he had ran frantically away from a very pissed Vildred. Jaehyun hadn’t been allowed to attend, and Donghyuck didn’t trust the magnetron not to stab him to death with his own bejewelled clothes the moment he got in range.

That was how Donghyuck ended up in the toilets, zapping the handle melted shut, barely having regained his breath. He walked over to the mirrors, staring longingly at the taps and wishing he could wash his face without facing fatal consequences. Everyone was already on his ass, he didn’t need to wipe off his makeup and practically prove their suspicions. Shaking his head, he assessed how terrible he looked after all that harassment. Of course the maids were incredibly talented at making sure his makeup could weather the apocalypse, but his tie was hanging oddly and his cape needed smoothing – how fucking extra for his getup to include a _cape?_ It was entirely unnecessary, though Aria had told him it was what all the Heads had to wear. Ridiculous. The most powerful in your family, and you’re expected to look like a clown?

After re-ordering his tie and necklace, twisting his watch back round, and finally smoothing that one stubborn curl in his cape, Donghyuck sighed. The man in the mirror certainly wasn’t him. His face was as pale as if he was dead, his earrings out-shone his darkened eyes, his blazer alone cost more than the entirety of the Stilts earned collectively. As he stared, defeated, at his reflection, a lock of heavily gelled hair fell onto his forehead. He pushed it back, only then noticing the rest of the room in the mirror.

One of the cubicles was closed.

Spinning round, Donghyuck glared at the closed door. Good thing he hadn’t broken into some self-pitying monologue, or said anything at all, since there was someone listening. Carefully, he crept forward, scanning the door: definitely locked. Someone had to be in there. He bent down, checking for feet, but whoever was hiding knew enough to take them off the floor. Huffing, Donghyuck tried knocking. No reply. He banged a little louder; still nothing.

He contemplated going into the next cubicle and climbing on the toilet seat to see over the wall – but that was a little far. Did he want to see an old Silver knob? No thanks. But then, it could be some unfortunate couple trying to sneak away from the prince’s dull party, only for their fun to be ruined. Donghyuck definitely didn’t want to catch anyone in _that_ situation, so he was about to make for the door and un-melt it somehow (or, y’know, just kick it down, old school). He never got a single step because the door opened.

Mark was crouched on the toilet seat, awkwardly leant forward after unlocking the door. Judging by his extra-wide eyes and gaping jaw, he was not expecting to find Donghyuck on the other side, and vice versa. This time Donghyuck didn’t delay as he marched towards the door, his cape swishing with the speed and force of his turn.

“Hyuck, wait, I- let me- what are you-?”

But Donghyuck was at the door, all his attention on the door handle, assessing what could be done to reverse its sorry state. Mark was hiccupping between his pleas, definitely drunk, and Donghyuck would much rather face a seething dagger on legs rather than deal with the whiny prince. However, the handle was drooped all over, a mess that looked vaguely like bird poo, and Donghyuck grimaced as he realised the shock had also ruined the very lock that kept the door shut. The thing would be impossible to undo, much less open.

“Did you… did you break the door?”

Donghyuck hated how he could picture his confused face, all scrunched up, even without looking. “No, but I’m going to.”

Ignoring the rest of Mark’s puzzled mumbles, Donghyuck proceeded to attack the door. He charged it a couple of times, then kicked it a few more, but none of it did anything except give him bruises. He’d turned the bloody thing into a wall. Groaning, he readied his lightning, wondering if anyone would bat an eye if the toilet entrance was suddenly a puddle of metal goop, or scattered debris.

He didn’t get to blow anything up this time because Mark’s frantic shouts distracted him, “Whoa, don’t- _don’t do that!_ Put that away! Holy shit, Hyuck, we’re in the _toilets_ , you’re gonna zap the whole- the whole fucking _mains water system_ \- do you wanna commit mass murder?”

Switching off, Donghyuck hissed at the sudden reprimanding. _You were silent two seconds ago, go back to that._ “As much of a mass murderer as you lot, huh.”

“Oh my- you’re still- you’re still _mad?_ Is that why, like, you’ve been avoiding me?”

Donghyuck rolled his eyes – Mark was so stupid it made his brain hurt. “Yes, I’m still fucking mad, and yes I’ve been avoiding you, but it’s not like you made any effort on your part either.”

There was a pause as his words settled in the air, rattling the glass of the mirrors until even that sound lost to the overpowering silence.

“Did… did you want me to?” Mark’s whisper might not have been audible anywhere else, as if he was asking his self.

Shaking his head, Donghyuck finally turned to the prince, yelling, “No of course I- but, I don’t know, fuck.” He threw his hands up. “I had other things to do.”

Mark scoffed, bobbing his head as he mocked, “ _Other things_. You do know you’re, like, talking to the _prince_ , right?”

Donghyuck shot him a death glare. “No I’m pretty sure I’m talking to a drunken idiot.”

“I am not.” He paused, cheeks puffing as he stifled a burp. “Either of those things. You’re mean.”

Okay, _no_. Donghyuck was not falling for that pout, or his cute moans and slurred words – it was the alcohol, not the fact that Mark was adorable. Because that wasn’t a fact. This was all an act to get Donghyuck to forgive him, to serve under him like the rest of the palace. He squinted at Mark’s small form, scrunched up on the toilet seat, his cheek squished against his knee as his head flopped down, bright eyes still sparkling even as he frowned up at Donghyuck. _The audacity_. Donghyuck huffed, turning away before slumping down onto the tiles, leaning back against the cubicle.

They were back to the silence: deafening.

Until Mark broke the dam.

“Hyuck, I’m sorry.” _Oh, so that’s my name now_. “I am an idiot. That whole argument was dumb and I was wrong and I said some really stupid things trying to justify other stupid things and like…” He trailed off, and Donghyuck could feel him hit the wall. “I don’t know. I just really want to apologise, and I get if you want to avoid me.”

He let himself grin at the sudden waterfall of apology. “Wow, you should drink more often, I’m liking this side of you.”

“Fuck you. I said I’m not drunk, I had like two glasses.”

But Donghyuck was already cackling, “That is fucking _adorable_ ,”

“ _Shut up_. I usually don’t drink, but they were from the queen and Morana, I literally _couldn’t_ refuse.”

The excuse only made Donghyuck laugh more, only stopping after Mark kicked him through the wall of the cubicle. He sighed, catching his breath, “Honestly though, I did consider finding you once – you never got to explain your side, after all.” He shuffled a bit until his side was at the wall, so he could face Mark. “I’m a little curious.”

At Mark’s exasperated huff, Donghyuck had to bite down a smile. “This is a trap but I’m gonna step in it anyway.”

“Start from the guns.”

“Fuck, alright. I…” He took a deep breath, stretching so he was sitting properly. “I was listing things we get taught, mainly. I feel especially shit for mentioning the numbers thing, like really, that was fucking terrible, I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean it.” He paused, his eyes glittering with guilt as he stared at Donghyuck.

But forgiveness wasn’t found so easily, so Donghyuck stayed silent as he waited for Mark to continue.

“And about the front…” Mark began again, finally breaking eye contact, “it’s true, there have been horror stories about other generals being too lenient, losing fights because some Silvers snuck in some powder or letting the Reds harass each other without punishment. Some guys get a little feisty and then there’s a riot. I was there one time when it happened,” the memories darkened his expression, “it was carnage. Didn’t help that the Lakelanders took that chance to ambush us – they probably planted someone to stir up the ranks in the first place.”

Strangely, Donghyuck didn’t think Mark sounded angry at all, he sounded… defeated. Slumping a little more than usual, his eyes as dim as his voice – something about the picture was unsettling.

“We lost a couple thousand in that fight, and an area of farmland in the marshes. Johnny was never the same after that…” He trailed off, before coughing as he realised some mistake, “uh, General Terran, I mean.”

 _General Terran, Haechan’s cousin. His name is Johnny, and it seems he and Mark are close_. Filing that snippet away, Donghyuck tried prying a little further, “And what happened to you?”

Mark fell for it immediately, folding his arms as he went on, “I realised they weren’t just extra-curricular trips anymore. That sounds bad, but that’s what they are to the nobles, really. But it’s not, it’s real people dying, and you’re the one leading, so you’re responsible.” His face got sharper as he continued, and Donghyuck didn’t miss how his fingers tightened, pinching his own arms. “When they die, you’re the one that killed them. Not the Lakes. When I said using the guns on soldiers, I meant just to threaten them – shoot the air or the floor or something so they get back in line. I’d never shoot one of my own, like I’m some kind of General Sai- he killed one of his maids for _serving his tea cold_.” His shouts cut off as he inhaled sharply.

_House Sai, telkies. A bunch of hypocritical asses, especially cruel in court._

After a moment, Mark hissed, “He’s a fucking psychopath.”

 _Apparently also psychotic._ Donghyuck hummed, “I trust telkies about as much as I trust magnetrons, honestly.”

Mark’s snort rattled Donghyuck into another death glare, but Mark beat him to the words, “Okay, I think you’re _very_ biased against the Oguns. Yeah, they’re kinda dicks, but so are most of the nobles. You’re just their main target because you stole their ticket to the throne.”

Donghyuck all of sudden wanted to punch the smugness off the prince’s face; he settled with worsening his scowl (if that was even possible). 

Mark ignored the miniscule change. “Besides, they could never stage a coup – though they do own the mining area in the mountains, their area isn’t very developed, and the metals are the only basic materials they have to bargain with. The techie factories are spread across other territories, mainly in Archeon, so if they tried anything it would be suicide for them.”

_Of course, the other reason why the Oguns hate Haechan: I stole the overseas mines. Too bad they still have some here._

Mark raised a finger, “One word from the king,” he brought it across his neck, “and the mines are ours.”

But Donghyuck wasn’t surprised at the threat, rather the information from before, which made him squint (Mark _was_ drunk, after all). “There are techies in _Archeon?_ ”

Far too dramatically, Mark let his arms drop to his sides, along with his jaw. Offended, Donghyuck leant forward just to slap his knee, but he barely reacted.

Eventually, Mark croaked, still completely aghast, “…What does Doyoung even teach you?”

“Something better than geography,” Donghyuck muttered. He could write lists upon lists of reasons as to why power training was far superior to actual academia, even in spite of his terrible spelling.

The allusion evaded Mark entirely, merely going on to explain, “Alright, but yeah. The techie factories are scattered in different territories, because we don’t want any one family getting too powerful and owning all the weapons. They each make different parts, that all get assembled in Archeon. That part of the city is a fortress – like better guarded than the castle – because we don’t want anyone spying and stealing.”

 _So that’s what House Heizen govern: the weapons factory. Of course._ Rachael probably thought he already knew about that. Archeon was the capital, after all – it might have been common knowledge taught at schools. (Donghyuck, ever the golden child, had dropped out not even halfway through.)

Still, a whole fortress was a bit excessive. “Guessing the main threat isn’t the Lakes,” Donghyuck said.

“Yeah, well, it never is.”

The atmosphere lulled after those words. It didn’t want to burn him alive, in fact it wasn’t a degree above room temperature; the tiles were soft and cool where Donghyuck rested. Unusually, the quiet sang, peaceful, content. The only sound was a little thunk, the source of which Mark’s head lolling until it leant against the tank, his eyes fluttered shut. The air was calm.

Back in the Stilts, alcohol was used as a fuel, something to feed the fire, stir it up until it roared and reared, ready to kill. It seemed to have had the opposite effect on Mark. Donghyuck wouldn’t put money on their conversation having gone the same way if it weren’t for the damn drink – it probably wouldn’t have happened at all – but as he examined the boy curled atop the toilet seat, a bird’s nest for hair and bones so protruding they could cut, Donghyuck found he was satisfied with the turn the evening had taken.

But he didn’t want Mark to sleep yet. He still had questions, and this was an opportunity he wouldn’t get again for a while.

His voice almost foreign in his own ears as it burst the silence, he whispered, “Why did you get so mad when I mentioned the Scarlet Guard?”

After a small noise of confusion, Mark lifted his head. He shifted again on the seat, cricking his neck as he answered, “Don’t have a good history with terrorists. The first man I ever killed was one.” A pause, Mark’s expression unreadable. “He deserved it, though.”

Oh, now Donghyuck _really_ wanted to know the story behind that. He had the sense to tread carefully, attempting to ease the tension in Mark’s shoulders. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ve killed too.” He puffed a heartless laugh. “Who hasn’t in this age, really.”

“Bet you didn’t have to do it at the ripe age of seven though.” _Bingo_. “The whole story is actually the reason we’ve got that ugly new tapestry.” This time it was Mark who chuckled humourlessly, shaking his head. “I share my depressing backstory with a piece of cloth.”

_The tapestry got changed, but it wasn’t right after queen Stella’s death. Rachael said it was after they culled a ton of the High Houses, meaning that…_

“...The terrorists were nobles?”

“Told you. Main threat’s never who you want it to be,” the next part a bare whisper, “much less expect it to be.”

Donghyuck hesitated to prod further, still processing the information, how Mark attempted to hide the hurt in his words (and how that attempt failed terribly). Did he still want to know what happened, should he ask at all? These questions were meaningless after the next: _will I ask anyway?_ Because Donghyuck’s stubborn answer was always _yes_.

“Can I-” Was all he managed before Mark came crashing through the walls he’d built – walls he’d built poorly but everyone still kept out anyway – everyone except Donghyuck, who’d been peering over them in preparation to tear them down. Now the work had been done without him, and he was left to watch the rubble make its mess.

“They had an eye that kept ahead of even the queen, so it was easy to take Rachael hostage.”

Mark spoke slowly, though it wasn’t for Donghyuck’s benefit; it wasn’t deliberate, it was pensive, as if Mark was going through his memories like a documentary and assessing the information, trying to make sense of it. Donghyuck made sense of it, already caught up in an imaginary scene where a toddler was being pulled by the hair, old Silvers crooning down at her, something glittering in the picture – either tears or blood. (It turned out to be both.)

“I was with the king on some dumb trip to Piedmont, and I couldn’t do a thing. It took the whole of House Nathair to bring them down. They were all in cells by the time we got back.”

He imagined the House of serpents diving down, given wings of rage and titled Dragons, great monsters of more than ancient times when humans didn’t even walk the earth. Unrecognisable, they’d broken the minds of the traitors, their leftovers spasming on the cold ground. It would be easy, for whispers.

When Mark stopped, Donghyuck asked, “What did the one guy do?” His second thought hit immediately afterwards, where he fumbled for a save, “I mean, if you want to stop…”

He trailed off as he took in Mark’s appearance – completely still, head down-turned – and noticed the silence was creeping back in, watching for an opening. Donghyuck shivered at the foreign cold.

Eventually, Mark spoke, his voice low and hoarse, “I killed the one that touched her.”

Oh. Donghyuck really shouldn’t have asked. “Shit.” He was not prepared for this. Yes, he understood the feeling, had stabbed many old Reds and more Silvers that had gotten grabby, caused whole bar fights pretty much every time Jisung turned up – but that wasn’t any help. Not when his only consolation was: “Good fucking job.”

Mark kept still.

Biting back a wince, Donghyuck tried to rescue the atmosphere – “No, seriously, don’t you dare regret a thing,” – it didn’t really work, as he had no idea what he was trying to say. (It wasn’t like the usual methods were an option – he couldn’t just pounce on the prince with a hug – he’d like to keep his head, thanks.)

But then Mark said, “I burned him alive in his cell.”

He looked up, up at Donghyuck, and his breath hitched. Mark was crying – well, nearly – his eyes were dark and hollow and glistening and he was on the verge of crying, and something in Donghyuck ached. It reminded him of their first meeting, except the roles were reversed, and Donghyuck had no idea what to do in this position. He didn’t know what would happen if Mark did cry, but the sense that it would be something terrible, something irreversible, clouded over his rationality as he found himself crawling closer.

Panicking when he got there with no further steps to his plan, Donghyuck blurted, “Mark-”

“I don’t regret it.” Mark shook his head, and now Donghyuck was close enough to feel his shaky sigh dust over his cheek. “But it scares me.”

Donghyuck folded his arms on the edge of the toilet seat, against the side of Mark’s leg. “I’ve killed for less. I’ve let others go that did worse.” Their gazes met again, and Donghyuck managed a small smile. “Everyone’s done bad, some are just better at hiding it than others.”

“It’s all just so…” Mark’s face scrunched up.

“Fucked? Yeah. Humans are fucked.”

Mark snorted, piercing the silence – Donghyuck jolted at the sudden noise, and Mark must’ve felt it because he covered his mouth immediately and froze up. Donghyuck only smiled more, even as Mark groaned, “I kinda hate everyone. It’s all fake.”

Plopping his head down on his arms, Donghyuck chirped, “Can confirm: everyone’s a fake bitch.” After all, he was the prime example.

“But expectations are so fucking high, all the fucking time.” Sighing, Mark deflated. “I’m so tired.”

“If it helps, at least you haven’t pissed anyone off simply for existing.”

A long moment passed where Mark didn’t reply, and Donghyuck thought he’d nodded off again until he mumbled brightly, “Do you maybe wanna rethink that statement?”

“Oh.” He was talking to _a prince._ “Shit.”

“Though I don’t have quite as scary a secret as yours,” Mark pointed out, nudging him with his leg, only giggling at Donghyuck’s scowl.

“I’m sure _you_ have others, though.” He lifted up onto his knees, leaning closer as he spoke up at Mark; he didn’t miss how his eyes flickered at the movement, how he tensed a little against Donghyuck’s arm. When he spotted Mark’s pale blush, he decided to lean even closer as he whispered, “A great scandal you’re cooking up with some crazy scheme.”

Mark darted away so quickly Donghyuck felt wind on his face. “Yeah, _no_ , you don’t want me cooking anything.” He laughed awkwardly, scrambling to find balance on the opposite edge of the toilet seat. “Let’s just say, like, we’re called _burners_ for a reason.”

Disappointed but not surprised, Donghyuck fell forward onto his folded arms again; he called out in a marketplace voice, “Special of the day: char-grilled terrorist. Better get it while it’s fresh, the smoke really adds that kick! Come in again tomorrow for our latest recipe: blackened Lakelander.”

Mark shook his head, but his grin and shaking chest said otherwise as he mocked, “Mm, _so tasty_ , my compliments to the chef – oh wait, that’s me.”

Failing to control his own laughter, Donghyuck buried his head in his sleeve. “Shit, our sense of humour is so fucking _warped_.”

“Nice to know it’s not just me.”

Donghyuck looked up again, for the first time expecting to make eye contact, Mark’s bronze eyes back to their warm sparkle. He mirrored Mark’s little smile, content, and the thought that maybe – and that’s a _big_ maybe – this Silver really wasn’t so bad crossed his mind. Part of him was thriving with warmth, wishing they could talk like this more often – but most of him was already packing his bags, preparing to leave this moment forever.

One last question, while he still had Mark trapped. “But what do you think of the Scarlet Guard, really, right now.”

He raised a brow, and for a chilling moment Donghyuck thought he’d slipped up, but the feeling went in an instant as Mark answered dutifully, “In comparison, it feels like a really bad prank. Like, they haven’t even killed anyone.”

At Mark’s shrug, Donghyuck frowned. “What if they start killing?” _What will you do to me?_

Like friction to a match, the air turned dangerous in an instant; Mark held his gaze, his answer sending shivers of heat up Donghyuck’s spine, “I’ll burn them.”

Before Donghyuck could even react and ruin the mood any further, the door burst open. It was comical, how they each leapt off the toilet seat and ran to different cubicles , simply at the first knock – much less the whole explosion of gold and brown as the door shattered and splintered, wood and metal scratching over the innocent tiles. Still, Donghyuck poked his head out the door to see who had come to the prince’s rescue.

He wasn’t surprised to find Lucas hopping over the door’s remains with a hilarious, panic-stricken expression. “Mark, you in here? You’ve gotta be in here, man- oh hi Haechan. You got stuck too, huh?”

Donghyuck only managed a nod before the other man – one of the hunks who’d been tossing Mark around at the party before, a strongarm by the looks of it – piped up, “Peregrie, he’s in that one at the end, the door’s closed.”

At the callout, Mark jumped out, “Yep, you found me, I wasn’t hiding I swear now let’s go come on,” and he sped past Donghyuck and Lucas and the strongarm, soon lost in the crowds decorating the corridors.

“Look at him go,” Lucas sniffed, wiping away a tear dramatically (Donghyuck doubted there was any actual tear), “that’s our Mark, always busy. Come on, Erik.” He left to follow Mark.

The strongarm lingered for a second longer, giving Donghyuck a look, “How’d the door get locked though…”

Donghyuck shrugged, and that seemed to be enough answer as the man turned away with his own shrug.

Looking after where the three had rushed off, Donghyuck remembered what tonight was meant to be about all along, and groaned at how badly distracted he’d gotten. “Rach is going to kill me.” Then after a moment, “ _If_ she’s sober.”

-o-O-o-

Rachael was sober because Morana turned out to be a decent guardian and had taken her to one of her blood healers, instantly curing her state of mind, as Jaehyun had done many times for Donghyuck (Silver dinners were _so excruciating_ , what with the queen and House Emira and everything else). He got a very sharp pinch under his jacket (how the hell she managed to find skin underneath all those layers was another one of her mysteries) as well as some painful hissing in his ear as they walked over to the refreshments.

“We’re meant to be keeping an eye on the names, not cosying up to my brother-” Rachael scoffed, violently grabbing Donghyuck’s arm as they walked to the side nearest the wall, furthest from the guest, “ _my brother_ , of all the people. I thought you hated him?”

He shook her grip off, glaring as he smiled, “My apologies for leaving so unexpectedly, my dear, but I wasn’t the one who got drunk the moment she stepped into the ballroom.”

Rachael laughed, loud and overplayed, as if he’d cracked some spectacular joke; her hand landed on his arm again, a threat. “You’d do the same if you were me. Believe me, alcohol is the only way to deal with _this_.”

She gestured to the whole party, not bothering to hide her loathing. The look disappeared almost instantly as she retreated to her mask.

Donghyuck took her hand in his, bringing it down as he stepped forward – a threat of his own, he towered over her. “If you’re only pissed about your perfect brother then simply _suck it up_.”

Rachael snatched her hand away, turning to pick up a glass; this time she filled it with punch. “There, are you happy? Now focus.”

Gritting his teeth to resist continuing the argument because _I’m not even the one who fucked up_ , Donghyuck held out and arm and she threaded her own through. “What are we looking at.”

“As your dear cousin hasn’t arrived yet, we’ll take a look at General Sai. He’s there, terrorising the lower class Silvers who got invited – they’re important merchants, I think one even knows Mark personally – but the Sais are the _worst_ at prejudice.”

“I know.” Donghyuck grimaced; even Mark hated them. “I think he’s a better target than General Terran anyway.”

Rachael huffed, “No. Terran holds more sway in the army, because people actually like him. Get rid of him, and morale’s in shambles. Get rid of Sai, and they’ll throw another party.”

“Silvers’ll throw a party either way,” He commented, purely out of spite.

“But also, I don’t trust that Renjun.” Rachael tugged his sleeve. “He was too persistent in wanting to get rid of him. So, we should go against him.”

Donghyuck shoved her off gently, “Okay, this is _not_ the time for your power complex.” Instead, he leant against the wall, taking comfort in how the music vibrated against his back. “Besides, I don’t want to kill my cousin. We’ve never even met!”

“But that’s another reason we should.” Rachael’s blue gaze was like steel in the low light; this was going to be a long argument. “If one of them is your own cousin, you’ll be less likely to be named as a suspect.”

“Wrong, I’ll forever be the first suspect because I’m Red-born and _the court_ ,” he punctuated the words, nodding in the direction of General Sai, “is prejudiced.”

“He isn’t part of the court though, he’s in the army! Choosing him will make you the _main_ suspect, not just the first.”

“And I’m saying I will be either way, so let’s at least get rid of the asshole.”

Rachael made for a retort, but stopped. Something flickered across her expression, then she stepped back, sipping her punch. “So. What else has Mark been gossiping about?”

“I-” Donghyuck started- how the fuck did she deduce _that_ \- that wasn’t the point, the point was he’d barely talked to Mark about anything, or anything that mattered, and he definitely didn’t deserve this treatment from Rachael. The treatment he’d been getting for the _entire night_.

He didn’t get to burst into his rant because of a third party stepping in, “Lovers’ quarrel, hm?”

He wished he’d heard a woman’s voice. A stranger’s voice. Hell, Taeyong or Jaemin in disguise would’ve been better, but instead Donghyuck turned to face Vildred. He was barely upright, empty glass in hand for all of a second before he tossed it away, and Donghyuck swore the metal of his suit twitched out of the corner of his eye. He gulped, feeling very bare in his gold-embroidered and jewellery-heavy outfit, standing before the man who would use those clothes to murder him.

“Good evening, Sir Vildred,” Donghyuck thanked whatever gods there were that his voice didn’t quiver, “is there something you need to discuss?”

But he was ignored as Vildred leered over at Rachael, who had jumped to Donghyuck’s side the moment he’d appeared, “Your highness,” he bowed as he spoke, barely rescuing his balance on the way back up, “why do you waste your life with this trash? This…” his face coiled up, looking uglier than the metal contorting on his suit, “ _villain?_ ”

Rachael threaded her arm through Donghyuck’s again, tense but not shaky, as she answered with her chin held high, “Sir Vildred, you are in no state to be talking to me. You may lose your head.”

Ignoring her words because apparently the sight of her clinging to Donghyuck was _so terrible_ , Vildred stomped forward, hand rising towards Donghyuck. _This is it,_ he scrunched his eyes shut in preparation to be stabbed a thousand times over, given a shameful death as he was revealed Red- but it never came. However, this time it wasn’t his electricity that saved the day, but rather the dumb Silver traditions.

He opened his eyes to Vildred’s outstretched hand, the only thing different its lack of glove – a glove that Donghyuck only just realised was on his chest, right before it flopped sadly onto the floor.

The magnetron growled, and Donghyuck wondered if he might throw up on his shoes, “I challenge you to a duel – a duel for the hand of the princess.”

“Which princess? A princess of Piedmont, perhaps?”

Donghyuck barely stifled his laughter at Vildred’s mortified expression, “No, _you swine_ , the princess you are holding _hostage_ as of current.”

“Oh, _she’s_ the hostage?” Donghyuck so very nearly did laugh, because _irony_ , but he managed himself. “Also, the princess you speak of has a name, that name being Rachael Heizen – but then you wouldn’t know that because you’re not on a first name basis, are you?”

At that, Rachael slapped him lightly, but Donghyuck was having too much fun. It felt so fucking good to rile up a Silver, and one of the real pricks too – a jackpot, really – there was no stopping him now. How had he been frightened of _this_ idiot?

By this time they had an audience, and that only made Donghyuck worse. “I wouldn’t take her earlier threat lightly, by the way. You do know who her mother is, I assume – you may be illiterate but you don’t live under a rock like your people do.”

“At least I have a people, and those are brave words coming from a _Red-born_ , Lord Beryl,” he stepped forward, his suit spiking out, and Donghyuck pressed back against the wall, “if that even _is_ your name.”

“It isn’t, really.” Vildred’s face twitched, but Donghyuck only smiled wider – he was _so_ gonna get beat up, but it’d be worth every second. “It’s actually my title. That means I have a higher status than you.”

Vildred’s jaw clenched, going rapidly pale, Donghyuck thought he might combust – but all it amounted to was a loud scoff that spat all over Donghyuck’s makeup. “Will that status save your life, I wonder?”

And finally, he was dead.

Except he still wasn’t (he found himself a little disappointed – these highs usually ended in concussions and broken bones), and all he heard instead of screaming was a harsh _clink_ of metal on metal, and a shadow over him. Yes, over him, and he was quite tall.

A cape swished against his legs, and Rachael gasped beside him, “ _He’s back!_ ”

The man in front of him knocked Vildred back with so much force he stumbled and fell (though it probably wasn’t that hard to do – the fool was piss-drunk), the glint of his sword in the shimmering ball lights temporarily blinding Donghyuck as the man waved it around, shaking off bits of twisted metal. The blade was a dark, dark grey – probably not even metal – explaining how he’d stepped between them without a hitch.

There were gasps and whispers all around, Donghyuck realised, echoing Rachael’s surprise. The man finally turned around, muttering to himself, “Geez, I make my triumphant return after how long, supposed to relax, and first thing I see is the Ogun moron starting a fight. Typical.”

Donghyuck recognised him. Probably a little late, a familiar presence already by his side, and judging by Mark’s starry-eyed expression his guess was correct.

Sheathing his sword, the man lazily saluted Mark before turning to smile at Donghyuck, “Hey, you must be the new kid. You should know I’m your cousin, but it’s nice to meet you.” He patted Donghyuck’s shoulder in greeting. “Call me Johnny.”

“Hi. I mean,” he shook his head – this was a new mode, totally different from all the arguing he’d just been doing – how does one be civil again? “A pleasure to finally meet you as well, and thank you for helping me with my…” he glanced at Rachael, but she just shook her head, “uh, situation.”

Johnny just laughed again, smacking his arm, “Nah, it’s my pleasure. That ass needs a stab every now and then – a bit of karma, if you will.”

Someone next to them coughed, and they both instantly turned to the source. Mark had a brow raised, and Donghyuck stepped back before he got in the way of whatever charge was coming. On cue, Johnny went in for a hug – more accurately a tackle – and Mark held on just as tight. A good thing, because Johnny lifted him up in the air before finally releasing him, both of them grinning wide. Donghyuck felt a little out of place – but then, there was a whole crowd watching the reunion, so he decided he mustn’t look out of place.

“Have you grown?” Johnny started, but Mark slapped him immediately – in hysterics from one small question.

“No, you know I haven’t, stop stalling!”

Johnny froze, seemingly having made some terrible mistake. “Uhh, I don’t know what you mean?”

Mark glared at him. He broke immediately, “Okay, so, big mix-up crossing the border, some luggage got lost, then traffic, so it was a whole mess and then I was late and also I don’t have a present. Sorry.” Mark held his glare, and for a moment Donghyuck thought he’d witness Mark actually get mad- “Happy birthday?”

-But Mark was smiling, “You will get me a present.” It was an order, but Johnny’s reaction of just slapping Mark back made it seem as though it wasn’t. “I missed you so much,”

“You too,” And Donghyuck couldn’t help but smile with them.

“What the hell did you do that for?” The moment was ruined by Vildred, again.

Donghyuck rolled his eyes, clenching his fists to stop them from sparking because _if that dick says one more word I’m gonna fucking fry him_.

Mark jolted at the new voice – he probably missed the whole show and only came to see Johnny – but the air quickly heated once he pieced together what must have happened. “And what were you doing, Sir Vildred?”

“Rescuing your dumb little sister. Half-sister, even, so you wouldn’t mind who got her, would you?”

Feeling the heat spike, sensing Rachael tense beside him, a sliver of fear bit into Donghyuck – fear for what was going to happen to Vildred. The fool.

Mark’s face was sharp again – the attempt to hide his rage – as he said, “You’re intoxicated.”

“What? You mean I’m drunk?” He laughed, dissonant. “Aren’t men most honest when they’re speaking on alcohol? Like that _one_ time, I’m sure everyone knows _the rumour_ ,”

And again, Donghyuck’s first incline was to know what the rumour was, so he made a mental note to ask about that later. For the time being, he watched as Vildred dug his own grave. He couldn’t even find fun in the display; it was embarrassing.

Mark, on the other hand, looked like he might set his skin on fire, or break his jaw from how hard he was clenching – but Johnny stepped in first, hand on his hilt, “Vildred, I recommend you leave now.”

“Yes, cover up the mistakes, you royals always do that. At least you’re taking responsibility for your actions.”

Before Mark could get more than one step forward, Johnny bridged the gap, yelling, “That’s it, _Guards!_ ”

“Wait,” Mark pulled him back, glancing at Donghyuck, then back to glaring at Vildred. “I’ve got this.”

Then, without even shouting, yet his voice still boomed across the hall – much quieter after all the drama – deep and frightening, he commanded, “ _Sentinels_.”

Though he knew the Sentinels were bad news in general, Donghyuck still felt a thrill at hearing the name, emphasised by the collective gasps from all the guests. Rachael only sighed, as if used to such displays.

“Escort this man out, and make sure he doesn’t cause more of an embarrassment to his family.”

In the shimmering lights and stunned silence, black and red stark against the crowds of sickening colours, head held high and jaw set firm as his Silver skin all but sparkled under the attention, Donghyuck couldn’t help but think that this scene suited Mark perfectly.

-o-O-o-

It felt like a soap opera, the whole ordeal. In fact, the whole evening had been some terribly written drama, cooked up only to torment the audience because of how infuriating the cast was – and Donghyuck seemed to be the unfortunate main character. The awful attempt at comedy was when Vildred had been dragged out, and the party resumed instantly, everyone forgetting the scene in seconds.

Mark especially was unfazed, and that annoyed Donghyuck the most.

He was there again, stood next to him as they watched various couples slow dance. He could see Chenle over at the end of the dancing space, sat by some large instrument as he played the ballad, a Silver girl singing through some techie invention that let her voice sound out through the speakers. Rachael had given up on reconnaissance after the incident with Vildred, and was on the floor with Morana, the pair twirling each other around gracefully as the Ogun twins glared daggers in their direction. Donghyuck was glad he wasn’t the target for once, but Mark’s weird aura was back in full force, and his five layers were screaming _no_ at all the heat.

Before Donghyuck could make his escape, Mark asked, “Care to dance?”

He corrected his earlier statement: Mark annoyed Donghyuck the most. He answered, “I’d rather not. It would be rude not to have my first dance with my betrothed.” The words were copy-pasted from Lady Sakura, from a lesson that morning about ballroom etiquette. Every room had its own etiquette, he had learned. _Please save me this once, stupid etiquette_.

Mark stepped out in front of him so they were facing as he grinned, “Yes, but it’s also rude to turn down an offer from the crown prince.”

Donghyuck smiled back, squinting, “Then I shall be rude.”

“So that’s a yes?” He held out his hand, smiling wider even as Donghyuck glared at him.

Folding his arms, Donghyuck sighed, “Don’t be clever, it’s not a good look on you.”

Mark, the stubborn bastard, still wasn’t deterred, and only stepped closer. “Just ‘cause you can’t manipulate me when I actually use my brain.”

The only way to get rid of Mark’s shit-eating grin and live another day was to shut his eyes, so Donghyuck did, wishing for this night to be over. “ _When_ did I manipulate you?”

“Literally an hour ago.” Donghyuck blinked his eyes open; he had him there. “Or do you want more examples? I could make a list.”

Biting his lip to hide his smile as Mark pretended to go through scenes in his mind, counting on his fingers, Donghyuck eventually groaned and grabbed Mark’s arm to drag him aside. Taking pride in his slightly white face and wide eyes after the act, Donghyuck lied, “I can’t dance.”

“Ah.” Mark blinked. “Wait, Lady Sakura didn’t teach you?”

“Well, I lied and said I could.” Sensing Mark about to suggest something dumb, Donghyuck rushed to add, “You can’t tell anyone, though. Not a word.”

“Okay,” Mark nodded, surprisingly easy to convince.

Donghyuck let his posture drop as he indulged in a moment of relief – now he could be alone, drift through the rest of the party and not murder anyone – or so he thought.

Mark thought otherwise. “I can teach you.”

Donghyuck shot him his most fearsome scowl; the prince blissfully ignored him. “In secret. No one has to know, I’ll keep my word.”

Donghyuck pinched the bridge of his nose, would he ever get a break? When he finally looked up, dead-pan, he was met with Mark’s confident little smile and hopeful bright eyes, and he suddenly found it difficult to say no. “Fuck no.” Difficult, but not impossible.

Mark’s expression fell, but it somehow got even worse – if Jeno’s puppy eyes were deadly, Mark’s were the equivalent of being hit head-on by a meteor – Donghyuck found, for the first time in a while, he was losing the battle. “Look, two girls can hold hands and prance around doing whatever, and it’s fine. Two _guys_ , and the Guards start coming over. Even if I trusted you, I’m sane, so my answer is no.”

Donghyuck could dance anyway, if he took the offer he’d be pretending to be bad. Was that even possible? Could he be terrible on purpose? He didn’t want to test it. (He didn’t want to be stuck alone in a room with Mark, somewhere secret, without cameras, just the two of them as they held each other amid the music.)

Before Donghyuck could look up to judge Mark’s reaction, hoping he’d finally listen, there was a hand on his, lifting it gently. Blushing, he looked up to find Mark smiling at him again, though this time it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Scratching,” was Mark’s answer; Donghyuck rolled his eyes, taking his hand away. “But alright. I’ll leave you alone.”

Thankfully, Mark finally obeyed. That time took a while – maybe he wasn’t such a good soldier after all. Stepping back, he gave Donghyuck space, though he still stood to the side of him as they watched the dance come to a close. He stayed there for a while, Donghyuck feeling the burn against his head at least four times a song, but he never once gave Mark the favour of looking back. Suddenly, the presence vanished, and only then did Donghyuck spare a glance to see strangers in Mark’s place.

He realised why, as the music cut and the king finally rose from his makeshift throne at the end of the hall. As if Silver life wasn’t complicated enough, the birthday party had an ulterior motive: the announcement of the prince’s return to the front.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes i am a coward and will not leave anything on more than one (1) chapter of angst + disagreements  
> and yes everyone's a bit of a bitch here lol, i hope i redeemed mark a little tho  
> also like uhh these next chapters (and most of the last one) are all completely made up new scenes, not based off anything from the book, so if they’re a bit worse i apologise,, plotting is hard BUT its for the slowburn, since i didn’t like how main couple got together in the book it was like: BAM they KISS, like what??? bruh gimme some wARNING (they had more development in the second book when they hated e/o lmaoooo)  
> we get fluff in the next chapter dw i got u in these trying times, stay safe xx


	12. my mind is running wild (could you help me slow it down?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FOR THOSE WHO WERE CONFUSED, THE [NEXT PART OF THIS FIC](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23935477/chapters/57559858) HAS THE DELETED SCENES FROM THE BEGINNING OF THE STORY!!  
> -  
> not @ how nct have had TWO comebacks in the time it's taken me to write this goddamn,,  
> (they were both so good ridin revived me from kick it but then punch killed me all over again)  
> -  
> so, i had many problems writing this and writing ig bc WRITER'S BLOCK hit, but good news is i now have the whole first arc completely planned! it should end at abt ch25  
> so for now plz enjoy this fluffy chapter x

Piedmont was a mess.

Yesterday, the day after the ball, Donghyuck had happily skipped over to his lesson with Doyoung, only to be met with actual textbooks and maps: his crash course in Piedmont history. He already knew the south was hot and fairly barren – the southernmost parts of Norta held the radioactive wastelands, faded signs and melted wires barring any entrance – but this was so south it was a new country: Piedmont.

It was split into states, of a sort. He didn’t really know – Doyoung himself didn’t seem to understand it – but apparently power was a shaky concept in Piedmont. The royal family was so widespread (the king was on his sixth wife, or something ridiculous) that each prince and princess demanded their own plot of land – similar to the Houses of Norta, except these lands were entirely controlled by the royals that owned them. Mini-countries within the country.

Donghyuck had no clue about politics, but that sounded like a recipe for disaster. No wonder Morana thought up this convoluted trip to ask for military assistance – they were probably on the edge of a civil war and looking for any distraction from that. Norta needed to provide the distraction, or else the alliance would be destroyed in the fallout.

Donghyuck didn’t know how well her plan would work, exactly – with him there it was more than likely to go south. Especially seeing as the first thing that happened when he got there was a soldier fervently telling him all about how he should not be sitting so near Rachael in the carriage – how boys and girls shouldn’t be in the same space at all – and so he was split from his guardian Silver. Doyoung had mentioned gender roles and the male-female divide were quite extreme here, though Donghyuck had focused on the ‘quite’ part of that phrase and assumed he needn’t worry. (By now he should know not to trust himself, honestly.) So now he was stuck with Mark, again.

Here in the capital, Donghyuck realised it wasn’t just the outskirts drowning in scaffolding, the whole damn country was littered with the things. He’d even witnessed one set of shaky iron collapse outright, dragging the workers down, the blood splatters hidden in the colour of the rust; the prince escorting them had only spared a laugh for the dead, promptly continuing with his tour. The palace (if you could even call it that – it was more like a series of random pillars and the odd alcove, the proper rooms hidden past long tunnels and staircases – a maze, really) was constantly being swept up by frantic Reds, kicking up dust so every room was full of coughing. The people all wore bandanas as masks to put up with the haze, though by their shaking chests it didn’t seem to help much.

The city wasn’t quite industrial; it was still underdeveloped and Donghyuck couldn’t sense a flicker of electricity until they were in the princes’ office. That was the first finished room he’d seen in the country, but even then it was old-fashioned and dark. There was a stench in the air that reminded Donghyuck of the backstreets of the Stilts – the no-go area near the butcher’s and the brothel – mildly nauseating. The wallpaper was a dark, unsettling green, the ornaments along the walls mainly consisting of severed animal heads and various horns – then some helmets, probably from Lakelander soldiers over the years. Above the fire (a dusty black hole in the wall, barely recognisable) hung a long-barrelled gun, glinting in the dim yellow light.

The room was death – that was the only way Donghyuck could describe it.

It wasn’t much more help that these princes were shifty as hell – Mark was like some mythical saint in comparison – and the fact only three of the four could make it made Donghyuck question Piedmont’s respect for Norta. After all, even Donghyuck and Rachael had been sent over, when he himself had nothing to do with the war, at all, and Rachael was supposed to be the pretty face for the people. Hell, they could’ve sent Mark alone, but the king must want to flaunt the fact that these grubby princes couldn’t get their hands on Norta’s precious princess. How lovely they must have found it, when they heard she’d been engaged to a Red-born Nobody. Donghyuck was suddenly a lot more grateful that he was currently sat in Mark’s safe warm presence, his only job to nod to the prince’s words every now and then, and otherwise behave.

Things had been going well: it looked as if the princes were convinced by Morana’s solid reasoning – though they only listened to it at all because it came from Mark’s mouth – and Donghyuck could tell the middle one, Scarface (he hadn’t bothered to remember names, so here are their nicknames), was particularly engrossed in war talk. Moustache, the eldest, gave a good act to pretend he was listening, but Donghyuck knew well from Jeno and Jisung when someone was zoned out. They were both strongarms, the youngest a greeny. He was the worst by far – little Ponytail, the sole inheritor of good looks, but that probably only fuelled his ego – and he constantly asked the most obvious questions at every piece of information, seemingly just to get on everyone’s nerves.

Twenty minutes in, and Mark was clenching his jaw as he answered. His aura wasn’t spiking, though, so Donghyuck remained a doll. He’d heard it all before, already reported it to the Scarlet Guard – he could get away with barely listening. Slow and steady, and they would win it. However, this would not last for long.

See, things _had_ been going well, until the doll was asked to speak.

Donghyuck barely even noticed he’d been addressed, only tuning in when Mark coughed and spoke to him directly, “Lord Beryl.”

Barely masking his shock, Donghyuck steeled his expression as he turned to the princes. “Pardon me, would you repeat that?”

Of course it was Ponytail who had asked, “I was only wondering how the newcomer is faring in terms of the princess. Is she well?”

_Ah, I see_. God, they just kept coming, didn’t they? “The princess is very well, I see no reason why she shouldn’t be – though I’m sure she’ll be quite disappointed if you don’t agree with our proposition.”

“Are you certain?” And there was an evil glint in his eye, and Donghyuck knew this was the part where things would go south (because of him, as predicted). “I heard that poor Mark here had to rescue you not long ago from one of the princess’s many admirers.”

Donghyuck would have had him in his retort if Mark hadn’t butted in, asking, “And where did you hear of this?”

Ponytail gave Mark a look as if he was stupid – a look that would’ve had him executed in Norta, certainly – “Why, I was there!”

Something flickered across Mark’s face that told Donghyuck he had not been on the guest list, but they were in Piedmont, and it would be no use arguing over one unwelcome prince. (Here, _Mark_ was the unwelcome prince.)

Donghyuck took that moment of confusion and spoke, “Then you must have seen that everything was handled.”

“But that was only because of the prince stepping in,” Ponytail was hungry to get something out of them, to find a crack, “it’s another scenario entirely, whether you would have been able to defend her highness by yourself. Pardon me, but I am only wondering for the sake of your dear princess.”

Clearly, women were trophies in Piedmont – fought over and earned and kept, dazzling for all to see, defended like the last meat in a famine, until they’re stripped and mauled down to bones and tossed away, used up and forgotten. That was how this prince was treating Rachael, just by the way he spoke; it made Donghyuck’s blood boil.

“My dear princess is safer than your entire country, as she hasn’t been pillaged by Lakelanders. I would question if her highness is safe as of now, in _your_ borders, that _Norta_ defended.”

The whole room paused, and Donghyuck thought for a moment he’d finally tipped the scale; he glanced at Mark, but his expression was oddly fond – proud, maybe – and then one of the princes laughed, loud and disorienting.

It was Scarface. “He’s got you there, loverboy!”

But Ponytail’s stare never broke, even as his brother smacked him on the back a few times – Donghyuck stared back, too stubborn to be the bigger man and ignore him.

Mark sighed, releasing the last of the tension in the air (though at least he seemed to be controlling his powers today – the room was still a good temperature), “Now that tangent is over, may we get back to discussing the proposition?”

The two eldest princes nodded for him to continue, but then the youngest prince spoke again, “We could, though we _would_ be interrupted again,”

And the room was back to silence, even his brothers confused at his statement. Donghyuck would’ve mentally screamed some sarcastic comment if the air in the room hadn’t so suddenly turned – and it wasn’t Mark. The weed-green wallpaper was creepier than ever in the stale silence, which here wasn’t deafening, but lying in wait. A dreadful feeling came over Donghyuck, his heart pounding and the hairs on his neck rising. _Run, run, get out-_

But the prince continued, “Why so serious? I only requested refreshments from some of the maids. Thought we could do with a little break.” He made a point of looking directly at Mark. “Some a lot more than others.”

Donghyuck realised then that the pounding of his heart wasn’t all that loud, it was footsteps outside. Pattering along the corridors, then giggling, and Donghyuck recognised it. He recognised it all too well. One part of him was relieved – _at least it’s not poison, or an ultimatum, or a kidnapping, or_ \- anyway; the other part of him was _horrified_. The maids were misnamed slaves, and it was clear the menu consisted of women rather than food. Would it be more of a scandal to stay or ditch the princes entirely? He knew which option he preferred, but that probably meant it wasn’t the better one. The room had electricity, though, so he might be able to do _something_ …

Seeing the other princes chuckle knowingly at their brother and mumble some crude jokes, clearly welcoming the surprises, Donghyuck had to look away, else be sick on the ugly dark floor. He searched for something to distract himself, and then he saw Mark. He looked lost, his brows furrowed, and Donghyuck watched as the realisation hit and his face turned yellow. Mark was just as horrified.

Glancing at the princes, seeing them caught up in some awful conversation, Donghyuck moved to Mark’s side and whispered, “You know what’s happening, right?”

A nod.

“Do you trust me?”

A frown. “No?”

“Wise,” Donghyuck closed his eyes, feeling for the electricity in the room, “but you’ll have to for now.”

He sensed the lights – one, two, three, four – and wrenched them apart.

The door opened at the same time the bulbs exploded all at once, leaving the grimy room in total blackness. There were exclamations of shock, panic, gasps and screams as the maids tumbled into the room. Donghyuck stood, his hand firmly holding Mark’s sleeve, and reached his powers a little further to black out the corridor as well. More screams, like squealing pigs, and Donghyuck pulled Mark up and out, navigating by the wires in the walls.

It didn’t take long for them to reach daylight, at which point they were mainly dodging confused Guards. It wouldn’t do to be seen by the whole country, though, so Donghyuck made a sharp turn towards a more grassy area. Trees – actual trees, green-leafed despite the sweltering atmosphere – came into view and Donghyuck would have beamed at the sight, if not for the sudden dip in the ground.

It was comical, how they both tumbled down the hill until they hit concrete. The ringing in Donghyuck’s ears was soon replaced by the sound of trickling water, and he realised they’d bumped into a fountain. Quaint and calming, the fountain was the centrepiece of the little garden they’d landed in, and rather than the traditional tiered fountain it was more of a mini mountain range, streams falling gracefully off its rounded cliffs. Bright little weed flowers sprung up through the tiles on the ground, and the actual garden parts were a tad overgrown, but it somehow wasn’t messy or unpleasant. It was welcoming – the first thing in the damn country that seemed so.

A grunt from his side brought Donghyuck’s attention away from the greens and yellows to the prince, who was glaring. “What the _fuck_ just happened.”

Donghyuck glared back, “Excuse me, but I just saved your dignity, also known as your sorry ass.”

“What about the deal we had to make?”

Sitting up, Donghyuck sighed, “If they grow a few brain cells, they’ll realise they have to agree.”

“What about those Guards? Who saw you literally _dragging_ me across the palace-”

“ _If_ anyone asks, I was being a good citizen and a noble Lord, protecting his king-to-be from a potential threat.” He shrugged. “They won’t know it was me who put out the lights.”

Mark held his glare for a few moments before grumbling, “Fine, but how did you even do that?”

“Oh, uh, those lessons with your cousin?” Donghyuck paused until Mark nodded, grinning as he continued, “Not your traditional lessons. He helps me train my powers and stuff, so _yes_ , he _is_ way cooler than you – despite having the coolness of a damp loaf of bread.”

“In the _library?!_ ” Mark sounded utterly _betrayed_.

“Yep.” Donghyuck couldn’t care less.

A breeze passed over them, signalling the end of the conversation. Donghyuck turned away from Mark, basking in the peacefulness of the little garden. It was hot, but the steep sides and trees cast the area in shade; the spray from the fountain dusted Donghyuck’s cheeks, the only thing keeping him from dozing off. He was about to ask Mark if they should head back when something tickled his head.

Donghyuck turned back slowly, right until he was facing Mark again. Mark, whose face was scrunched up in concentration as he fished something out of Donghyuck’s hair. It tickled, and Donghyuck on a normal day wouldn’t have been affected at all by such a thing, but no day was normal anymore, and his body was positively _tingling_ , like a battery right before it explodes, and he wished it was uncomfortable but the opposite was true. Blinking, Donghyuck held his breath until Mark finished, his bright eyes smiling.

“You had some leaves stuck.”

Donghyuck let out his breath, “Yeah, you too, dumbass.”

“Oh.” Mark shook himself, kind of like a wet dog, leaves sprinkling everywhere. “Better?”

Donghyuck couldn’t answer straight away because he was still tingling all over, perhaps slightly dazed – Mark had absolutely ruined his hair, again, and Donghyuck was considering straight up telling the maids not to bother taming it anymore – but that wasn’t the point. The point was… Mark looked kind of cute, with his messy hair and expectant gaze- oh, he’d asked a question, hadn’t he? But that still wasn’t the point – what _was_ the point?

“Donghyuck?”

The point had evaded him. Instead, he changed the subject, “B-by the way, why’d you get so flustered back there? You _gained_ colour, which for Silvers is like losing colour, so whatever emotions must’ve been pretty extreme.”

Donghyuck turned to Mark, who had gone bright white.

“I wasn’t _flustered_ -”

“Uh yeah you were.” Donghyuck proceeded to ignore the prince’s excuses, instead mumbling, “Maybe you’re actually a real prude? Apparently you’ve never, y’know, _‘requested maids’_ , so- oh my god, are you a _virgin?_ ”

Mark heard him that time, and instantly sputtered, “I- wha- _well_ ,”

“Holy shit you are.” Donghyuck was having a field day.

Mark was starting to look like a snowman, spindly arms in the air as he defended, “Well I’m sorry that I’m too busy to fool around!”

“Yeah, right,” he scoffed, “the king-to-be is ‘too busy’ to get laid. That’s kinda _more_ incentive to hire hookers, as a break. Lotta the brothel’s regulars were tired busy merchants.” They were prime targets for stealing.

“It’s not like that- how do you even know all this?”

A pretty poor attempt at a subject change, Donghyuck wasn’t falling for it. “I had my sources, now spill.”

“No, _okay_ ,” Mark huffed, looking away from Donghyuck, “maybe I wasn’t always so busy, but even then I’d never have _sex_. I think it should be- I _want_ it to be with someone I actually care about, who cares about me.” A pause, then Mark jumped- “Of course that’ll never happen, but the feeling doesn’t go away because of that fact.”

Donghyuck leant back, humming, “Didn’t pin you as the romantic type, your highness.” It was a little cute, but mainly sad.

“Shut up.” And Mark threw a twig at him (deservedly). “What about _you_ , anyway? You were freaking out way worse than me.”

_May as well_. Donghyuck owed him at least a snippet of information, after all the tattling Mark had done, plus he was actually a pretty good guy. _What’s the worst that could happen?_ “Here’s a shocker, but I’m into guys, so the thought of doing it with girls is just _wrong_.” He gulped. _Oh, execution_. He stuttered, playing it off as a laugh, “So now you can stop worrying about your sister.”

“Oh, I wasn’t worried.”

Donghyuck whipped around to face him; Mark was smiling, no trace of disgust or nausea or any sort of hatred on his countenance.

That smile morphed into a smirk, “She’s _definitely_ playing you.”

Donghyuck frowned. _If only you knew_ \- “Wait, you’re just gonna zip over the whole gay thing?”

Mark blinked. “What do you mean?”

“You’re not… _offended_ , or anything?” (And there he went, poking the beast, asking for a fight.)

“No, why would I be?”

The response had Donghyuck speechless.

“It doesn’t change you, and it’s a dumb law anyway.” His voice was soft and sincere, and his face did the scrunch when he called it a _dumb law_ ; Donghyuck was so fixated on his reaction that he barely caught his next words, whispers. “Just one of many I’m hoping to change after the war.”

He shook his head – so what if the kind prince turned out to be actually accepting and open-minded? _You were expecting this, idiot._ So, Donghyuck took Mark’s cue, asking, “You really think we can win?”

“Um, _theoretically_ , yes.”

And Donghyuck prepared himself for the speech – he’d be listening this time, or at least trying to.

“Actually, statistically speaking, the war should’ve really ended a few decades ago, but it’s still on-going so clearly our information was wrong. But that’s okay, because I’ve figured out enough to know what needs to happen so we can win. Norta’s a lot stronger now, with all the advances in our tech, so we have the upper hand in terms of manpower. Still, it’s suspicious how neither side has made a significant advance in those same few decades, almost like no one wants the war to end…”

“Wow.” That was almost incomprehensible. “Haven’t heard from mystery nerd in a while.” Donghyuck played it off with a grin.

“I’m _not-_ ” Mark shook his head. “Besides, we should be getting some new super soldiers if, like you said, these princes grow some brain cells.”

“Yeah, but that’ll probably take a while-” he gasped – “do you think we should throw shit at them to speed it up? Literal shit, like fertiliser?”

Mark was _appalled_ \- “No!”

“I’m _joking_.” Donghyuck cackled – he’d looked nearly as bad as he had in that room with the princes, though perhaps not as bad as when they had that fight – at which point he remembered that Mark wasn’t burning the air anymore. “Y’know, you were pretty impressive back there. Didn’t pay attention to a single word, personally, but you didn’t cook the room this time, and you didn’t burn that ugly-ass green wallpaper.” In fact, Donghyuck could barely feel his aura now, and so he nodded. “I’m proud.”

Mark giggled, and Donghyuck started at the sound (at the tingle back in his chest), “Thanks? I _have_ actually been trying to work on that.” He leant forward slightly, beaming with pride. “Is it really better?”

At Mark’s blinding smile and bright eyes, practically glowing with hope, Donghyuck nearly fell back, overwhelmed. Such a small question, small action, and Donghyuck had to lean away to balance it out. He didn’t want to bring attention to the warm tingle growing all over him, and he wouldn’t.

Thanking the maids for his makeup, Donghyuck ignored the feeling entirely, turning away with a cough, “Uh- yeah!” Again, he changed the subject. “But _damn_ , the tension back there – honestly, I kinda wished for Jaehyun to pop in and rescue us at one point, and _that_ is saying something!”

Mark dead-panned, “I probably should’ve assigned a different guard…”

“Nah, we’re cool now. Did you only choose him because he’s mute, though?”

“No! Of course not!” He exhaled sharply. “It’s because I trust him, and there isn’t a long list of people a crown prince can trust.” He paused, brows furrowing. “Really, there’s hardly a list.”

Donghyuck hummed in understanding, but didn’t have anything else to add. He no longer trusted himself around Mark – too many things were piling up, and Donghyuck certainly didn’t want to add _feelings_ to that list. Their conversation might have ended, the only noise in the garden a pretty birdsong, but Mark didn’t let it.

“You need to be careful too, Donghyuck.”

“Oh?” Donghyuck raised his brows. “Kinda hypocritical coming from you, mister tragic backstory. Spilling half your past, curled up on a toilet seat – quite the sight, truly.” He grinned at the memory, shuffling closer as he lowered his voice, “Care to tell me more?”

He was expecting Mark to give him a look, maybe blush a little, before shoving him away and ignoring the question entirely, instead instructing them to head back before anyone gets suspicious (which really they should be doing right now) – this time Mark wasn’t drunk or desperate for forgiveness, so getting up close and whispering should have been the perfect recipe to send the prince fleeing.

Clearly, Donghyuck had miscalculated, because Mark did none of those things.

Instead he met Donghyuck’s gaze confidently, almost amused as he said, “What would you like to know?”

Deciding to embrace the opportunity, Donghyuck rolled with it. “Maybe…” Literally, he flopped down and rolled until he was facing up, the sun blocked by Mark’s head. “How Jaehyun lost his tongue?”

He hummed, nodding as he considered the question; Donghyuck barely caught the reply because _how the hell does he still look good from this angle?_ “Anything else?”

Donghyuck blinked, dumb for a second before his brain kicked in and he blurted the next idea that came to him, “Queen Stella?”

Mark yawned, “And?”

Still focusing on the sharp edges but the soft curves of his jawline, that Donghyuck had a _very_ nice view of from here, it took a long moment for him to catch onto Mark’s lazy smile and the direction this conversation was headed. “You’re not gonna tell me shit are you.”

His smile just widened, “Nope.”

“ _Fuck_.”

And as revenge Donghyuck yanked Mark down to his level, until they were tackling each other, rolling around on the dusty patio as Donghyuck began his tickle assault; he was winning the battle, until Mark pulled on Donghyuck’s hair, causing him to retreat. As he yowled a string of colourful curses, Mark scooped up some water from the fountain and splashed it on his face – now this was no longer a battle, this was _war_. Donghyuck leapt up and chased Mark around the fountain, feinting this way and that, but mainly just running in circles. The next time Mark tried picking up some water, Donghyuck stuck his hand in the pool and tased him – he seized the opportunity and jumped across the fountain before pushing Mark to the ground.

They landed with a heavy _oomf_ that could’ve been Mark or the landing, but Donghyuck didn’t falter as he tickled him to death, the screams probably audible to the Guards they’d ran from earlier.

Mark was slapping Donghyuck’s arms, barely making out between breaths, “Okay, _okay_ , I yield!”

Halting his assault, Donghyuck huffed, “You’re lucky I’m feeling quite merciful today.”

Mark burst into another bout of laughter, un-tickled, and soon Donghyuck was joining in. They were laughing so hard it turned to silent wheezing, which honestly just made the situation worse – not to mention when Mark tried shushing Donghyuck and instead got the loudest guffaw that probably caught the Guards’ attention from Norta – but, eventually, they both ran out of breath and lay on the concrete, side-by-side.

The sky was solid blue, the sun far-off, but the breeze fought off most of the heat that hung in the air, green leaves swaying and falling at the edges of Donghyuck’s vision; he wished he could stay in that peaceful state forever – no war, no powers, no blood divide, just nature and the sky’s endless blue. But he’d wished for many things, and none ever came true.

“We should probably get back,” he whispered, yet still Donghyuck cringed at the sound of his own voice ruining the quiet.

Mark hummed, acknowledging the statement. An eternity later, he managed to reply, “Probably.”

Donghyuck turned, surprised to come face-to-face with Mark. His breath hitched and he cursed himself because this close Mark definitely noticed – Donghyuck could feel Mark’s breath on his skin they were that close – and he should’ve turned away, sat up, fucking bolted up and over the hills, instead of stay there and stare, dumb. Mark’s gaze was intense, as if searching him, so many questions in his eyes (so many stars), and it took everything in Donghyuck’s power not to let his eyes flit down to his lips because then that was game over.

So, Donghyuck had two options: get up in the most awkward transition ever and begin marching back to the palace, whether or not Mark followed (he would follow), or find a way to utterly, spectacularly ruin the moment.

He opted for the second: “ _Holy shit_ your flower’s gonna get taken by the fucking _ice queen_ -”

Instantly, Mark’s face fell. “Fuck you, seriously,”

“But it- it- _pfffffft_ ,” Donghyuck rolled over in his act, succeeding in escaping the danger zone.

“Seriously, _shut it!_ ” He pushed Donghyuck, who just kept rolling while he cackled. “I swear by my fucking colours, Hyuck, if you don’t shut _up_ -”

Sighing, Donghyuck lifted himself up, “ _Alright_ , sorry.”

He held out his hand and Mark took it, standing up as well – he was smiling, so Donghyuck didn’t feel bad about any of the teasing.

“So,” Mark began, and Donghyuck nodded pre-emptively, thinking he was about to tell them to go back, but instead he said, “you wanna reconsider that dance offer?”

Groaning, Donghyuck face-palmed. When he dropped his hand and saw Mark’s sheepish smile, though, he caved, “Well, we’re not doing it _here_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> someone is Whipped...  
> sorry for the weird end it's for the transition to next chapter... yes guys it's HAPPENING   
> but,, these next few chapters are super big and important and i rlly wanna get them right, so updates will be slow from now on  
> i feel bad bc of lockdown like i should be writing more, but the opposite is true... the motivation has disappeared, but at the same time im so so excited for what i have planned and i rlly wanna pull through!!  
> kudos and comments are SUPER appreciated guys, and to everyone reading i love you!!!


	13. love the light in your eyes (the dark in your heart)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...so  
> I think everyone knows the past couple of months have been extra shitty, and it was hard to find motivation to write for so long, and when i did i was hit with a ton of anxiety abt my writing so, yeah. and it is STUPID but i'm happy i finally managed to write this  
> but also awaken the world? aoty, domino superior  
> -  
> aside from me just not writing, there were A LOT of problems w/ this chapter and stuff got cut and rewritten to hell and back, i nearly didn't have this chapter AT ALL but! i had the Epiphany that i will write what i want and i wanted to write this, so i'm sorry again for this shitty fic being so goddamn long...   
> yes, it's another mark pov.

The knowledge that Donghyuck liked guys was not a plot twist nor an epiphany, but rather a bastard mix of both, so overpowered it took all twenty years of training to mask any and all emotion for Mark not to lose his shit back in that garden – training that for once in his life paid off. This new information was sending Mark nearly crazy with all the thoughts mixed up in his head, mainly replays of all their past conversations, except now they had an extra meaning, sometimes an entirely new meaning, though most of the time they just left Mark even more confused.

It was also a huge distraction, as his current state in a heap on the floor would tell anyone; Johnny was getting very fretful as to why Mark hadn’t won a single one of their spars, so Mark needed to figure his shit out fast.

The cherry on top: Mark had just offered to teach Donghyuck how to dance. This meant staying in close proximity, together, alone, in private – all things that really shouldn’t ever be in the same list unless you were married. But then, had Donghyuck actually accepted the second offer? He’d only said that he wasn’t having a lesson right there in that garden, but was he actually inferring that he would accept doing it back in the palace, or was it just another roundabout rejection?

_No_ , that would be far too polite for Donghyuck if it really was a rejection, but it would make sense as a cryptic _yes_.

This belief at least succeeded in Mark winning the next couple of spars, Johnny’s suspicion vanishing the moment his ass hit the dirt, after which they took a break. As always, they avoided the war topic as much as possible, which resulted in Johnny trying to talk about girls and Morana, who was honestly the very last thing on Mark’s mind right now – in fact, the only thing he could think about was Donghyuck, so every topic they talked about swiftly changed to a new one.

Mark wondered if he was having one of those power lessons with Doyoung, or just a boring one with Lady Sakura, wearing his cute little scowl as he angrily placed the cutlery in all their correct places-

“Hey, what about that new kid, Haechan?”

“Huh?” It took a second for the question to register, and by that time Johnny was already moving on-

“Yeah, your sister’s man, apparently. Damn, your generation really pulled the short straws with your fiancés.”

“Maybe,” _definitely_ , “but Hy- Haechan isn’t as bad as everyone makes him out to be.”

Johnny paused to raise a brow, his drink halfway to his mouth. “Really?”

“Yeah, like he’s actually-” but he caught himself; as much as his brain was full of the boy, he couldn’t let it seep into conversation. Briefly, he wished he could gush about his trainwreck of thoughts to Johnny – he acted dumb with all his jokes and pranks, but that was just to distract from the calculating wisdom he’d grown over years in the army – he wasn’t a General for nothing – but Mark couldn’t. It was bad enough that Johnny got dragged into saving Donghyuck at that party (Mark’s own fucking birthday party, how embarrassing), and really Mark didn’t want the whole court to know he and Haechan were close, or burden Johnny with the royal family’s latest secret, never mind this weird crush he had going on, so he didn’t. “Nevermind.”

Johnny stared at him for an extra-long moment and Mark tried desperately to keep a poker face. “You’re acting weird today.”

Mark frowned in response, Johnny laughing at his reaction, but luckily he left it at that. They got five minutes into their next round, Mark just barely keeping Johnny away with his flames – thank god oblivions could only explode what they could touch – when Mark spun round and caught a glimpse of Donghyuck through a window. He’d definitely just come out from a lesson with Lady Sakura, by the way he cricked his neck and scowled before letting his posture fall, his smile small but powerful, understandably happy to be free.

Of course, that one second of distraction (though it had felt like hours) was all it took for Johnny to break through and blast his power, knocking Mark over. Johnny was speaking, and maybe Mark could’ve made out his words through the ringing in his ears if he concentrated, but his head was all Donghyuck.

Once he was able to get up, he did, and once he was able to speak, he said, “Sorry, I have to go,” and stumbled over towards the building.

He ignored Johnny’s calls of concern – Donghyuck was headed to the library, so that’s where he’d be going too.

-o-O-o-

Mark was stopped by the library doors – those towering, mahogany beasts – and was reduced to peeking through the gap and eavesdropping like a six-year-old, way back before he started his training and only heard news of the war by spying on the Lords like so.

Now, he’d do _anything_ to get away from the subject – such as spying on his cousin, babbling his usual nonsense as he heaved a very large battery onto the table, which Donghyuck immediately blasted to smithereens.

Doyoung’s face was black with ash, sputtering, as Donghyuck loudly complained, “This is _boring_. It’s too easy, I wanna fight someone.”

Doyoung grumbled something in return, after which Donghyuck demonstrated his mastery in conjuring up the tiniest flicker of electricity between his hands that Doyoung shook his head at before disappearing out of sight. Donghyuck was left deflated for only a moment before that mischievous spark returned and he started experimenting with his powers on his own; he ended up frying a hole in one of the bookcases. Mark’s heart sank at the sight, though his smile returned at the sight of Donghyuck frantically searching for something to cover up the vandalism.

Mark didn’t really want to stay there all morning, eavesdropping and spying and all the things the nobles would point their chin at with a disapproving huff – but he also wasn’t ready to charge in. Really, this was reconnaissance, scouting out the mission and assessing the terrain, memorising the schedule, all so he could make a plan and come back tomorrow, so prepared he’d be more than ready.

Of course, Mark had horrible luck, and a horrible group of friends, so instead he ended up shoved through the great monstrous doors and into the belly of the beast head-on.

He glanced back at a winking Jaehyun and didn’t even get to glare at him before he pulled the doors shut, and clicked them locked.

_And_ he didn’t even get to announce his entrance before he was met with Donghyuck’s exasperated groan. “Why are _you_ here?”

“Um,” he spun round to attention on instinct, barely keeping his arms at his side instead of his back, “I’m here to- to check on the library! For, like, damage. And, um…” His mind blanked and he searched the room in panic until he found a huge black mark on one of the coffee tables, “Burns?”

Nodding his head like it was a rubber duck at sea, Donghyuck hummed, “Yes, yes, and what qualifications do you have that make you an expert on library standards?”

Mark opened and shut his mouth. “I’m… the prince?”

He pouted a little, and it must have worked something because Donghyuck dropped his defensive stance and this time only huffed, “Seriously, Mark, what do you want?”

And Mark remembered Donghyuck was _bored_. Clearly, that was the only reason he hadn’t been zapped or death-glared out of the room by now (though a part of him had hoped Donghyuck just liked spending time with him – a delusional part of him, honestly). And then he remembered that Donghyuck had just been wailing over Doyoung’s unwillingness to let him fight anyone. Mark gave the room another scan and found (a lot more burns and ruined books that brought him physical pain to think about but also) plenty of antiques and heirlooms of the many Houses hung up on the walls – the wall right beside them, in particular. Finally, Mark had a plan.

Donghyuck had been waiting, a flicker of amusement behind his bored glare, until Mark said, “Let’s fight.”

His face scrunched in confusion. “… _What?_ ”

This time Mark gave him an exasperated look. Donghyuck visibly gave in after that, though he was definitely about to ask _why_ , so Mark beat him to it, “We’ll make a bet. Loser has to do whatever the winner wants.”

“I’m definitely ordering you to drown in the ocean…”

“Nothing _crazy_ ,” Mark gave Donghyuck a last warning glance before turning to the wall, where two shimmering swords were hung up in a cross.

As he picked them from their display, Donghyuck asked, “And what makes you think I’m just gonna accept your bet? Aren’t you, like, a war hero?”

Holding both swords, Mark turned back with a grin, “Think you’re gonna lose?”

Scowling, Donghyuck snatched one of the swords from his hands. He twirled it around, his frown reflected in the well-polished blade. “I have no idea how to use this.”

Mark had only the teensiest bit of remorse, shrugging, “You’re quick enough to figure it out.”

Donghyuck shot him a glare deadly enough to make even the queen think twice about knocking on that mind, and Mark hadn’t even realised he was smirking when Donghyuck hissed, “Keep smirking like that when this is at your throat.”

“You’re not _that_ quick-”

He was cut off by the tip of a blade at his neck, Donghyuck at the other end of the handle, having stolen his smirk. “Try me.”

Raising a brow at the challenge, Mark murmured assent before immediately knocking Donghyuck’s sword away, the metal clashing with a painful screech. Donghyuck winced at the noise and leapt away, Mark chasing him so Donghyuck was forced to defend – and Mark didn’t dare go easy on him, because he’d see it and take the highest offence – but for all the hitting and slashing and footwork Mark unleashed, Donghyuck managed to keep up. Unsurprisingly, he was an expert at dodging (Mark definitely hadn’t let his gaze wander at training, and certainly hadn’t caught the way Donghyuck quickly ditched defence in favour of evading every attack), he was quick and flexible, and he knew the library a lot better than Mark, luring him into the maze of book shelves so they were both poking their swords through gaps between the books, like some deadly game of pop goes the weasel. Donghyuck’s giggles were haunting, and Mark felt the sword brush his fringe at least three times before he managed to dive and forwards-roll out of the maze.

Beneath the thumping of his heartbeat, Mark heard footsteps. He stepped out just as Donghyuck appeared and pulled him, by the arm attached to his weapon, and the momentum sent him crashing down so hard books fell off the shelf he hit like acorns from a tree, Mark cringing at the loud _bang_. Still, he didn’t hesitate to kick Donghyuck’s sword away and point his own at Donghyuck’s face.

Rubbing the back of his head, Donghyuck pouted up at him, whining “See? War hero. This thing was rigged from the beginning. You never even told me the rules!”

Mark snorted at the obvious ploy for a sympathy-induced opening, instead shoving his sword forward so it was brushing Donghyuck’s fringe. “There aren’t really ‘rules’ on the battlefield.”

“Oh?” Donghyuck snapped back into his smug air, narrowing his eyes, “Perfect.”

Mark’s confusion lasted precisely a moment before Donghyuck grabbed the metal blade with both hands and tased Mark with a jolt that made him drop the sword and fall on one knee. He managed to reach forward and pull the weapon aside – both swords were now lost to Doyoung’s mess of maps and battery packs littering the carpet – though Mark didn’t quite manage to avoid the oncoming bolt of lightning Donghyuck threw at him. Sure, there were no rules, but this _had_ to be cheating. Donghyuck’s aim was perfect, as usual, so Mark had no choice but to hope that lightning – heat and light – was something his powers could bend, scrunching his eyes as he begged _please work please work please work_ -

“The fuck?” came Donghyuck’s eloquent response to the floating electricity in the air between them as Mark opened his eyes.

Mark pulled the rest of the leftovers apart until they fizzled into nothing, barely holding back a laugh at Donghyuck’s furrowed brows and little frown. Mark stood, brushing himself off, and sent Donghyuck his best shit-eating grin, “It seems… you’re outmatched.”

“Fucking _rigged_ ,” Donghyuck growled as he charged Mark head-on.

He barely managed to escape the attack, glimpsing a shimmer of silver out of the corner of his eye, and then running for that flicker of hope. Now the roles were switched, and Mark was left to clumsily dodge and block Donghyuck’s swift kicks and punches – where had he been hiding these moves during training? – but Mark quickly realised he was just terribly out of practice when it came to evasion and Donghyuck’s attacks were more based on instinct rather than technique, like a housecat chasing an overweight pigeon. But between the half-stumbling over batteries on the floor and rolls in the carpet, and knocking away one of Donghyuck’s gold-studded boots, Mark caught Donghyuck grinning through the flailing limbs. (It was very hard to stay focused on the fight and not Donghyuck’s sunny smile or the light panting that often dusted Mark’s hands and cheeks as he blocked.)

Thankfully, one more awkward dodge later, and Mark was at his destination. He blocked the next couple of punches before ducking the kick, recovering one of the lost swords as he crouched, and jumped back up with the blade back in Donghyuck’s face. Suddenly, the prey had become the hunter. Mark laughed as Donghyuck groaned, but as Donghyuck turned to flee Mark used his free hand to pull him back, kicking behind the knee and throwing him down. He landed heavy with a pained groan, like sandpaper in his throat, and Mark winced a hasty apology before pointing his sword down at Donghyuck’s throat.

The wave of exhaustion finally landing, Mark sighed, “Do you concede?”

“If that means do I admit to losing,” Donghyuck croaked, squinting up at Mark (and still somehow managing to make it a powerful glare), “ _never_.”

Mark opened his mouth to argue, but refrained. There could be another trick yet, and arguing could be a part of it, or just drain him further – what the hell kinds of things had Donghyuck lived through to have that kind of stamina? Or maybe he was just feeling it worse because of his spars with Johnny?

“I’ll zap you,” Donghyuck whispered, voice hoarse and small and in no way threatening, and Mark’s heart squeezed.

_Focus. You are_ this _close to winning._ “That would be very unwise.” However, focusing was very hard when it came to anything Donghyuck, so staring down his glare quickly turned into staring at Donghyuck’s neck muscles as he gulped, feeling his Adam’s apple brush against his blade, and Mark tightened his grip on the handle. The makeup thinned out in a gradient down his neck, so Mark could still make out a few of his moles, twisting his blade to get a better view.

“Bad idea,” he breathed, more to himself than Donghyuck, as he imagined what it might be like to kiss those constellations, or the golden skin beneath the paint, or those heart-shaped lips-

And Donghyuck kicked the sword out of his grip, using the distraction to land a punch directly to his jaw. Really, Mark should have expected this. Still, his vision blurred and he might have fallen back against another bookshelf before he finally clicked back into reality – only to be met with a sword-slashing Donghyuck.

Something didn’t quite work, because Mark tripped on another goddamn battery pack and Donghyuck mistimed the hit, so the sword landed-

-and cut straight through Mark’s shirt.

“ _Shit_ ,” but Donghyuck didn’t know that, so he dropped the weapon and instantly started scanning over Mark’s chest area.

Flushed bright white as Donghyuck’s knuckles grazed his skin, opening up the fabric where about a fifteen centimetre cut had been made, Mark barely choked out, “I’m- I’m fine! It just cut the shirt, luckily.”

Donghyuck stared at him, long and searching, all while Mark was painfully aware of the blood rushing to his face. He muttered, “I refuse to believe my aim is that good,” and shoved his cold hands fully into the gap.

Mark yelped at the temperature difference and desperately tried to claw Donghyuck’s hands away – “What- stop it! What are you even- get _off!_ ”

Humming blissfully, Donghyuck ignored his pleas, “Ooh, you have _proper_ abs-”

“Enough!” Mark pushed Donghyuck off and crossed his arms over his chest, scowling. “And I do _not_ have abs.” (Well, his main references _were_ Johnny and Jaehyun.)

Donghyuck sat up from where he’d tumbled over to, shooting Mark a scathing look before huffing, “Take a joke, your highness.” After that he got up and began rummaging through a drawer near the main seating area.

Mark remained in his spot, defending his chest with his arms – admittedly a little hurt that Donghyuck was joking about the ab thing, but no one needed to know that – until Donghyuck came back with a small tin box. He flipped it open to reveal a mini sewing kit, identical to the ones many mothers live by, and with one hand on his hip instructed, “Take off your shirt.”

“What?” Mark squeaked, folding his arms tighter and pressing back against the shelves.

Donghyuck groaned for the fiftieth time that day, “You can’t go walking around with a big gaping hole in your shirt, and I can’t fix it while you’re wearing it, dumbass.”

Mark narrowed his eyes. _He has a point._

“I’ll turn around, or whatever.”

And it was that one bored comment that made Mark agree, because in no way could he fuck this up, because it was clear as the summer sky that Donghyuck Was Not Interested. “Fine. You don’t need to turn around, though.”

He undid the buttons that were still hanging on and pulled it off, throwing it to Donghyuck. Tying the string to the needle, Donghyuck also asked for Mark to find the couple of buttons that had fallen off. It was sufficient distraction from the whirlwind of dangerous things that had just happened, and Mark found both of them by his feet quite easily. He handed them over to Donghyuck, who scanned his eyes over Mark before taking them – it hit a second later that he was half-naked and then he was back to playing Snow White.

He walked back to his spot, leaning against the bookshelf, as he watched Donghyuck sew. It didn’t take long, but while watching it was like hours had gone by – Mark was mesmerised by the hypnotic repetition of the needle threading in and out, Donghyuck’s eyes fixed in concentration as his hands worked away with ease. Soon the buttons were on as well, and he handed it back, the spell broken.

So Mark asked, “Where did you learn that?”

Donghyuck raised his brows, then smiled. “Do princes not learn the basic skill of sewing their own clothes?”

Instantly, Mark felt dumb, and fell dumb as he turned his attention to putting on his mended shirt. He turned back to find Donghyuck staring at him, brows slightly furrowed, and he flushed again wondering how long Donghyuck had been staring.

Then Donghyuck said, “You know those characters that are described in books as having porcelain skin?” At Mark’s nod, he continued, “Well, that’s you.”

Mark didn’t really know how he should respond, so he just said, “Thanks?”

Donghyuck’s expression fell in an instant, “That wasn’t a compliment.”

As Mark’s jaw dropped, Donghyuck boasted an evil grin, one that was begging to be wiped off with a kiss- _no, stop that_. Mark scrunched his eyes shut – he shouldn’t be thinking these things, not when Donghyuck was marrying his sister, not when he was a man, not when he was a Red-

“I get you have your healers and stuff but the fact you’ve been to war, what, three times? And you don’t even have a single scar to mark it? That’s just _wrong_.”

“Are you saying you’d like me more if I had scars?” But it was just too easy to play along with Donghyuck, Mark couldn’t help it as he grinned back.

“Maybe,” Donghyuck’s smirk turned dangerous, his gaze darker, as he dared, “when you go on your next trip why don’t you keep some and we’ll see.”

Ah. The next trip. It was less than two weeks until the send-off, with another massive ball and overdone celebration, and then two months of pure hell down at the front, with a new-and-improved Silver army, like these people were the latest household product. And Mark was the mascot.

He didn’t want to focus on that part, but the ball might not be a bad thing if he could convince Donghyuck to dance with him – but then that looped right back to the very reason Mark had come to the damn library in the first place: the dance lessons.

“9:30 in the war room, if you take the shortcut through the store rooms and up the emergency stairs, there won’t be any Guards.”

Donghyuck blinked. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I’m telling you where the lessons are, dumbass.”

“And when did I agree to those?”

Mark rolled his eyes as Donghyuck rubbed his chin, saying his words deliberately slowly while he gestured, “I _won_ , this is my _order_ , for _you_.”

Donghyuck responded by throwing a book at him.

Okay, _technically_ , no one really won – though Mark definitely would have if Donghyuck wasn’t, well, _Donghyuck_ – but Mark desperately wanted an excuse to spend a little more time with him, and he wasn’t below begging. So he begged, “ _Please_ , Hyuck?”

As Mark bit his lip, waiting for a response, hoping for a yes, Donghyuck gave him yet another long stare, but this time there was a different atmosphere to it. Mark couldn’t place the difference – where before it had been pensive and almost judging, now it seemed more… attentive. Like if Mark stared back equally long and hard, he’d be able to see himself perfectly reflected in Donghyuck’s dark eyes – he had no idea what that might mean, though, and thinking about it only gave him a headache. He was tired enough.

So it was a relief when Donghyuck finally scoffed, “Stop that. Needy is a _terrible_ look on you.”

Mark’s eyes widened, sensing the yes in Donghyuck’s total avoidance of the question; he tilted his head, asking, “Does that mean…?”

Donghyuck crossed his arms, frowning, “I said _stop that_ \- and _yes_ , for fuck’s sake.”

Mark mouthed a _yes_ and barely held back from fisting the air – though his celebration was cut short by his cousin waltzing in.

“I left to give you two some privacy but lunch is in ten minutes so unless there is something I really do _not_ want to see in there, I’m coming in to kick you out.”

Mark sighed, earning a snort from Donghyuck. “So, 9:30? Isn’t that past your bedtime?”

“I know it’s past yours, _Lord Beryl_.”

And the ache in his jaw and his head and now his stomach, after being lovingly elbowed by Donghyuck, was all worth it.

-o-O-o-

The war room was a strictly no-tech zone, all the information and strategy discussed there solely spoken, sometimes written, and Mark will never forget Donghyuck’s reaction when he walked in on Mark lighting candles along the windowsill on their first lesson. See, the main light did come from the chandelier, but without the usual daylight the room’s lighting was _extra_ reminiscent of an adult movie – which Mark explained through several stutters to a blinking Donghyuck. After all that, Donghyuck just scrunched his face up and said, “I don’t like candles.”

Mark burst into laughter, the tenseness evaporating with Donghyuck’s every word from that moment on.

A week into lessons, and Mark had learned… so much. Much more than he’d liked, if all Donghyuck’s anecdotes were true (which he seriously doubted) – did he _need_ to know the details of Lord Verdant’s two-headed-snake ass tattoo? Even excluding all the R-rated tales ( _especially_ Jeno’s 16th birthday) most things Donghyuck discussed as casually as the weather were far from normal. Guards raiding first graders’ lessons for fun, the town lighthouse literally being a man with a torch atop the ruins of some theatre, the only stable job apart from prostitution being a _hitman_ – though Donghyuck insisted a Harry didn’t always kill, they just “taught a lesson” – Mark hadn’t dared to ask why they were even called _Harrys_ in the first place.

Mark learned that while Donghyuck spoke like he was singing, when he broke into laughter that image was immediately torn apart by the loudest guffaws, and Mark would tell him off if the room wasn’t soundproof – or he wasn’t too busy laughing too. He learned that Donghyuck, the more you knew him, the meaner he’d become – but after a few headlocks Mark learned that the Red was all bark and no bite. Mark even noticed Donghyuck didn’t scratch his arms around him anymore.

(And some scarier things Mark learned were how he found himself looking forward to their nights the most, his head full of their lessons, full of Donghyuck’s impossible grin and the warmth of his hands on Mark’s back; how he remembered what it was like to have fun, to _enjoy_ someone’s company, to _want_ to spend time with them. He learned as he watched the sun set, lighting all the candles with a flick of his wrist, that all the light of the world couldn’t compare to Donghyuck’s presence.)

He had also learned Donghyuck was impossibly bad at everything.

Mark was sure half the time Donghyuck accidentally stepped on his feet it wasn’t an accident at all, his smile that bit too wide as he said sorry – not even _touching_ on the amount of times Donghyuck had fallen over. Mark had to roll away the rug it had gotten that bad, and a falling Donghyuck was like a meteor if Mark didn’t catch him, and when Mark _did_ catch him it was like holding a rose by its thorns. In the moment, it was all well and good, if ‘good’ consisted of panicking over how close Donghyuck’s face was for all of a moment before noticing there were small gold flecks in his eyes, or that his lips were naturally a perfect heart shape, or that there was a small scar on his brow – until the moment turned to long, exhausting seconds and Mark let go, suddenly hit with the full force of shame.

He shouldn’t be thinking that way. Not in the confines of the palace, with eyes and ears and mind-readers on him everywhere he turned. At the front, hidden in forts and trenches and tents, he could get away with things, had gotten away with things, so the fact Mark was being sent away yet again should have had at least one silver lining. At war, he was far from free, but at least he could be himself. At war, no one cared who he laughed with or who he kissed. At war, Death and Duty were no longer nooses, but weapons that Mark had spent his whole life learning how to wield.

So Mark used his head for once, and realised: Donghyuck’s bad dancing is all an act.

-o-O-o-

Tomorrow was the ball, and the day after Mark would leave. It was their last lesson.

The room held its breath as the pair stepped in time to their heartbeats, the only music the hum and crackle of the flames, the pitter-patter of rain on the window, and the occasional muted sigh as they paused. No move was mistimed, no looks were exchanged, but their bodies flowed together like a confluence of rivers. In circles they danced, perfect and fluid, but heavy, their clothes drenched in the words and feelings left unsaid.

_I leave tomorrow_ , Mark wanted desperately to say, to break the quiet. He wanted to talk to Donghyuck, one last time, to see his reaction, to have his attention. But Donghyuck could just as easily give no reaction. And what if he did react, what then? Mark didn’t need to say anything. He shouldn’t say anything. _Pitter-patter._

So he danced in silence. For the first time, Donghyuck executed the spin correctly, no toes harmed and no giggles thrown. Clenching his jaw, Mark risked a glance at his partner, wondering again just _who_ was this boy? He was too perfect to be a beginner, too perfect to be real, so of course he wasn’t.

Before anyone registered it, the dance finished, leaving the pair locked together, half hand in hand. Mark’s hold on Donghyuck’s shoulder was the only thing keeping him upright; Donghyuck’s hand on his back was the distraction, warm and tempting. They let go. _Pitter-patter._

Mark expected Donghyuck to leave right then, as if none of this – all this – had ever happened; instead, there were fingers at his collar, light but deliberate, taking their time as they fixed away. Mark held his breath, afraid to look but looking anyway, Donghyuck’s gaze focused on the task at hand, every graze against his neck and touch through his shirt sending little shocks through Mark’s whole body. (And he didn’t realise, but the temperature in the room spiked a little too.)

Finally satisfied, Donghyuck stepped back, catching Mark’s stare for a split second, and maybe Mark caught the slightest curve of Donghyuck’s lips. That moment Mark decided on something, far in the back of his mind, but that decision could have been years away because all Mark could do in that moment was catch Donghyuck’s hand before he walked away, all Mark could think of was kissing him – so he did. Lifting his hand up to his lips, Mark kissed its back. He let it sit in his palm for Donghyuck to take back, watching as he tried to hide his shock. Gulping, Donghyuck took his hand back, but made no move to leave, or to respond.

Now there was one last thing Mark needed a response for. “Why did you agree to these lessons?”

It took a second for the whole meaning to process, and then Donghyuck smiled ever so slightly, folding his arms. “Why did you let me come?”

He looked into Mark’s eyes, knowing he’d got him, while Mark could only stare back, dumb. He knew the answer, and by the intensity of Donghyuck’s gaze, so did he. There was no point in denying it – there was no point in refusing it either. Two days, and Mark would be gone, this whole night and all these lessons, all their time together would be a distant memory, an old mistake, a phantom _pitter-patter._

Mark was already swept up in the river, his feet acting before his head, until he was so close they were breathing each other’s air. Slowly, Mark lifted his hand to stroke Donghyuck’s fringe (not that it needed tidying), and then let his hand fall to cup Donghyuck’s jaw, feeling it clench and unclench, all the muscles moving as he gulped. His eyes were fluttered shut, and he was nearly leaning into Mark’s touch – Mark just hoped he wasn’t shaking as much on the outside as the inside, where the river was cascading.

Glancing between Donghyuck’s head in his hand and his parted lips, Mark brushed his thumb over the bottom lip, eliciting a small gasp as Donghyuck’s hand shot up to hold Mark’s. His eyes were open again, half-lidded and daring as his gaze flitted down to Mark’s lips.

As the candles waned and the rain’s pace quickened, Mark leaned in, and the first bolt of the storm thundered outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i regret NOTHING  
> and now we're halfway!!! this is by far the longest ive ever kept up a fic, and i wanna thank all you guys reading this bc you're the reason i'm being loyal for once lol  
> (i do have a fun wip pending... but it won't be ready for a while rip)   
> get ready for the next one bc it's this, but in hyuck's pov (and more kissing)


	14. i can taste it now (oh no)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow okay so.  
> the delay boils down to me not having any motivation for life ig over the past few months (or wait... half a year?!?!?!! broooo)  
> i am also currently in Gacha Hell. (someone, anyone, please take genshin away from me...)  
> i have been writing little bits of things but nothing's very finished.  
> in other news, the uk's in full lockdown again (surprise surprise) so ig i might write more bc if im sitting in front of my computer all day i will definitely get some docs open lol - also i recently discovered the wonders of google drive so i wrote most of this chapter from my phone at like 2am,,, ha  
> -  
> but who cares abt that!!!!  
> if you're still here, congratulations, the slow burn has finally paid off!!!  
> (or has it...?)

Needy was a _very_ good look on Mark, sue Donghyuck for lying. He blamed it on the power fantasy – it clearly wasn’t everyday the crown prince literally begged for someone’s attention, after all. Or maybe Donghyuck’s mind was jumping to conclusions; Mark had definitely been the type of boy to always remember his pleases and thank yous, a stark contrast to everyone from the Stilts, so that sort of reaction _could_ be normal. Still, Donghyuck was finding it quite hard to concentrate on Taeyong’s lecture, mainly since all the space in his head was full of Mark’s sparkly eyes and the cute tilt of his head-

Okay, this was all very _not_ normal.

The gnawing inside his chest grew as he went over the whole library incident again in his head – the clear excuse for Mark to show off in front of him while also winning a rigged-to-the-heavens bet, how Mark had _known_ Donghyuck’s stubborn ass couldn’t just say _no_ , and then the _actual fight_ itself- _okay, no, that’s enough._ But, as usual, he didn’t listen, and the thrill of the fight and the flirting, the charged air and the heavy panting, poured into his mind without end. Donghyuck almost groaned as he remembered how he’d ended the fight by nearly deboning Mark like a fish – and _did_ groan as he then recalled how he’d practically pounced on the opportunity to stick his hands up his shirt. At the noise, he got a funny look from Jaemin, but otherwise no one had noticed his inner conflict.

And then Donghyuck remembered what had happened before that: him on the ground, blade to his throat, Mark at the other end, too busy to meet his glare as his own gaze flitted up and down- “Oh, _fuck off_.”

All at once, the Scarlet Guard turned to stare at him, mouths agape in shock – even Rachael looked taken aback – and Donghyuck frantically launched into a shaky explanation that didn’t actually explain anything because he _still_ wasn’t sure what the fuck his brain was trying to tell him- either the prince had literally been checking him out as he pinned him to the ground, or his own brain had very artfully edited that particular memory to satisfy some deep part of him, and Donghyuck didn’t know which of the two would be worse-

“I got this,” Jeno sighed.

And then there was pain – a raw spike straight through Donghyuck’s skull, and he forgot about Mark and the palace entirely for all of a second before he registered Jeno’s scowl. See, if a guy known for his puppy-like demeanour is suddenly glaring at you with as much disappointment as if you’d just told them of your teen pregnancy, that’s when you’ve fucked up. (Or, y’know, the moment Donghyuck accidentally offended the most dangerous terrorist in the room, literally five seconds ago.)

Hands on his forehead, Donghyuck sucked in his tears, sheepishly apologised, and turned to his best friend. “Thanks. Needed that.”

As Jeno softened with a warm smile, Jaemin showed up and automatically had Jeno by the shoulder; Donghyuck pointedly ignored him, since he knew glaring would just make Jeno mad again.

“Damn,” Jaemin leaned in too close, inspecting Donghyuck’s forehead (and he was _this close_ to smacking him-) “super effective _and_ a critical hit.”

“They call it the head flick of death,” Jeno said with exaggerated seriousness, “alas, it is now a lost technique, hence I am the last living master of the art.”

Jaemin laughed, “Don’t waste it all on him then.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Finally, Donghyuck fired a glare at him, something violently stirring inside – since when had Jeno replaced him with _this?_

“Boys,” Taeyong called, rubbing his temples, “this is important.”

Still boring holes into Jaemin, Donghyuck muttered, “Yes, it is.”

“Well I’m _flattered_ you think of me that way-” and Taeyong’s hand was over Jaemin’s mouth.

It seemed at that point Donghyuck as well as Jaemin both remembered the current situation, and promptly reddened before turning back to the mouldy table (it was great that the palace had tons of forgotten rooms perfect for meetings, but they were even more neglected than the past Queen’s room – still a lot better than the Stilts, though). Donghyuck caught Rachael giving him a half-amused half-judging look, until everyone’s attention was back on Taeyong as he relayed the plan.

“Jaemin and I will infiltrate the party, along with a few of ours who are already on the inside-” he nodded at two servants, their red bandanas vigorous against their dull burgundy uniforms- “while Jeno watches from above.”

The ball would be hosted in the main hall again, where Rachael had pointed out the balcony that rimmed the central dome – the inside entrances had mostly been blocked off, but there was a way in from the outside. It seemed that rooftopping was a common thing for the Scarlet Guard – but then Donghyuck remembered how easy it had been for himself to use the roofs to sneak out – _oh my god, there was also that dude with the prophecies!_ He was still half certain that had been a dream.

Anyway- after Jeno snuck in through the roof, there was one inside entrance that Rachael remembered had never been sealed, only locked up and hidden behind a tapestry (she remembered it since it was her signature hide-and-seek spot before they closed it up), so when the time came the others would have a way up.

So it went like this: Taeyong and Jaemin would infiltrate the party, using spare outfits the other two had hidden away in one of these abandoned rooms; while they watched over the floor level of the party, keeping the targets in the main hall, the two real servants would use that fact in order to get to the store rooms which also happened to be where the fuse box for the hall was; assuming they knew what the fuck to do with that, Rachael and Donghyuck would get rid of the tapestry, then swap places with Taeyong and Jaemin; the targets should all be in line at that point for the king’s speech, at some point in which the lights would go off and then the rest would be history.

“There are four guns for the four targets. When the lights go out, that’s when we get them.”

“About that,” Jaemin leaned in, “did we actually finalise _who_ we’re killing? Because last meeting everyone was saying at least five different names, _each_.”

All at once, Jaemin had pressed resume on the last meeting’s disagreements, names flying like artillery as they cried this General and that Lord-

“Boys!” Taeyong slammed his hands on the table as Rachael coughed, “And lady.” He sighed, “A lot of names were thrown around for the sake of it, especially from _you two_ ,” he side-eyed the servants who shrank under that cold, dark gaze, “but I did take notes and narrowed it down to options. We’ll take a vote now, since you’re all such stubborn pricks.”

And he read: “Lady Emira. Lady Jung. Lord Ogun. Lt. Colonel Nathair. Colonel Boreas. General Sai. General Terran. And…” he looked around at the others warily, “Prince Mark.”

“No.” “Perfect.”

And Donghyuck and Jaemin were back to a scowling duel.

Groaning, Taeyong moved to separate them again, before saying, “I’ll read the names again, this time we vote.”

But Donghyuck could tell Rachael was itching to get one last argument in, until he realised she wouldn’t – she _couldn’t_ defend her own brother, for it was a matter of loyalty. With a sudden wave of panic, Donghyuck realised he couldn’t either – he was also sort of ‘saved’ by Mark, after all – really, he just didn’t want to add more fuel to whatever mess of a bonfire their current relationship was. Because it was _not_ a relationship. (What was it, at this point?)

This charged silence as Taeyong waited for the inevitable objection was finally broken by, surprisingly, Jeno. “Take the Prince off the list. Killing him’s only gonna cause a huge mess, something way worse than what we want.”

Even Jaemin couldn’t argue with Jeno. By extension, neither could Taeyong, and he simply did not read Mark’s name. Donghyuck and Rachael shared a look, deflating with relief.

The vote came out as such: Lady Emira, Lord Ogun, Lt. Colonel Nathair, and General Terran.

-o-O-o-

The palace held too many secret passages for them to have been on purpose – until Donghyuck realised these were different than Mark’s. Those had been the stereotypical ‘dungeon’ that beggars would tell stories about in hope for a coin, dank and humid from the pipes running through them, like the haggard breath of an old beast past its time. These passages, though, they weren’t all brick and stone and rotten wood; the walls were smooth, the cracks through them almost patterned; instead of mould and moss there was a trace of colour, chipped paint, metal grates; there was an unusual amount of plastic lying in the floor and walls, wobbly after all the years of heat leaking from the palace heating systems. This place never died; it was only dormant.

He was inspecting a faded mural on one of the walls, trying to decipher its ancient text, when there was a sudden flash of light blocking his vision.

He blinked until the whiteness was replaced with a hissing Jaemin, waving his torch about as he rattled, “Can you get your evil-mastermind-girlfriend-mistress away from Jeno please? Poor boy’s gonna have a heart attack.” And he gestured wildly to where Rachael was gushing to Jeno about something, his face painted in ‘ _help me_ ’.

Grudgingly, Donghyuck had to agree that the boy needed saving. “Oi, Jeno! Come look at this!”

Jeno brightened instantly at the SOS response, bounding over to the two boys. He and Jaemin began inspecting the drawings and letters on the walls, and when Donghyuck looked from one to the other he nearly cringed at how obvious they both were. Donghyuck had never seen so many crescent-eye smiles in all his years of knowing Jeno, and in all his dreams of punching Jaemin he never imagined the smug asshole could be so soft and warm. _Maybe, this might not be such a bad thing_. Comparing it to all his own relationships, it was already far more stable- _and_ then Donghyuck spiralled back into thoughts of Mark.

“Hyuck.”

Jeno’s voice pulled Donghyuck out of – whatever that was – and he turned to see that the boy’s full focus was on him, brows pinched as he scanned Donghyuck’s appearance. Admittedly, he looked quite shoddy, but they’d been in spiderweb-ridden, humid as fuck rooms for the past half an hour, so _everyone_ looked messy-

“What’s wrong?”

Donghyuck’s mouth parted. What _was_ wrong?

“Good question.” He tried to joke it off, but Jeno’s expression only hardened. 

“I, uh,” Jaemin clicked his tongue, scooting away from the pair, “I’ll leave now. Good luck.”

For a while, Donghyuck’s own breathing was the only sound he could hear, so he simply watched as Jeno pointed his torch around, surveying the whole tunnel – from the wall, back to Donghyuck, and past him to where the other members were nearly lost in the darkness.

Finally, Jeno sighed, “If you’re not complaining about etiquette or some bitchass Lord, it’s gotta be _bad_. Like, worse than the time we almost got enslaved by pirates kinda bad.”

Donghyuck cracked a snicker, “Isn’t that my whole situation?”

“Maybe,” Jeno grinned, the glint in his eyes hidden in those crescents, “but this time the kidnapper is _hot_ -”

Faking vomit, Donghyuck elbowed Jeno for that little addition; with practised skill, Jeno had him in a headlock within the second. It was easy to forget, in that second, that mere minutes ago they’d been discussing murder as part of the Scarlet Guard.

Tapping out so Jeno let him go, Donghyuck decided to give the vaguest of answers to the question. “What’s wrong is me, as always. Something stupid, but I’ll deal with it.”

Jeno looked away. “You always do, don’t you.”

 _Well, clearly_ that _wasn’t the right answer_ – Donghyuck scrambled for some other way to phrase it, but only came up with gibberish half-words and phrases – really, he didn’t know _what_ was wrong, so how could he phrase it? ( _Really_ really, he knew exactly how to phrase it, because he knew exactly who the problem was – he just chose to ignore this knowledge.)

“Alright, shut up,” Jeno cried after a whole five seconds of Donghyuck’s ancient Babylonian excuses, “it’s obvious what the ‘problem’ is anyway.”

“Can’t be as obvious as you and your fellow ‘colleague’.” He smirked at the pinch of Jeno’s face. “Or – how do you pronounce it – _Nana?_ ”

And Jeno’s jaw hit the floor as he gasped; Donghyuck _had_ to hug him. A confused Jeno was the best Jeno – until he recovered from the knife in his back and turned it on his attacker. Choking in the hold of his best friend, Donghyuck managed to experience another second of peace before the world came charging back.

The attack this time was planned, clever, and devastating – the attack being the brief warning that Jeno whispered in his ear: “You shouldn’t trust the royals.”

Jeno let go of Donghyuck and smiled sadly before turning back down the tunnel. Though his breath had returned, the numbness lingered – the lessons were starting to seem a worse idea every minute – he barely registered Rachael’s fiery hands waving in his face (he hadn’t noticed the pitch black before she came running back.) Her icy eyes glowed with concern as she asked him what was wrong, and the underwater feeling only grew stronger after the question registered.

She dug a hot nail into his arm and Donghyuck snapped back to attention just in time to catch the last of her worries.

“-And please, _please_ , don’t do anything dumb. No setbacks, no distractions, only the mission.”

And Donghyuck lied: “Only the mission.”

-o-O-o-

Sneaking wasn’t needed to get to the war room after hours, Donghyuck found after blatantly walking out of his room and down all the dark, empty corridors until he found the shortcut through the store rooms. Having collected an array of pins and clips off the maids ever since he was first trapped in the palace, it was pretty much a straight path through and out, where he finally met the doors of the war room, its name plate glinting in the dark.

He barely considered the huge mistake this whole thing was about to be – he’d done all of that earlier – and pushed open the door. He was met with a scene that forced him to reconsider everything, again. Mark had the look of someone caught mid-vandal as he awkwardly stood, his hand half out over one of the newly-lit candles – just one, one of the dozens that lined the windowsill and tables.

Donghyuck made to turn around as Mark yelped, “I can explain!”

So he closed the door behind him and stayed. Mark could not explain; what came out of him was mostly incoherent, but Donghyuck got the gist that the room was dark without extra candles, and nodded until the prince had ran out of words.

Before the silence dragged on, Donghyuck blurted, “I don’t like candles.”

“Oh.” Mark furrowed his brows for a moment. “Sorry, I guess.”

Donghyuck smiled at the easy apology, “It’s fine. Though, I don’t see much teaching going on yet. No dancing, either. So far this is a _terrible_ experience – I think I want a different tutor.”

Mark laughed, and, just like that, the affair began.

-o-O-o-

Donghyuck was glad Mark hadn’t asked him about the candles.

Candles came out during storms and bad months where there was no money for the lec bills. Candles came out on the day of the Feats, the day everything went to shit. Candles came out whenever he fucked up – and, thanks to his lovely powers, it was clear that part of the problem – literally – was him.

Problems had been a regular occurrence in the Stilts – at this age they were just the way things were. The only two places worth anything back there had been Briar’s Beak and the Verdant Theatre. The cliff off Briar’s had a view that wasn’t of the stilted shanties, for once, and a fairly clear ocean below that, which Donghyuck and Jeno had spent many days just diving off and climbing back up its rocky shores. Sure, before they planned to hang out there Donghyuck would always visit it beforehand to check for bodies, but it wasn’t as harsh as Carrie’s or as overly popular as Daisy – and both of those were loved by bodies too.

And the Theatre, well. The Verdants liked to think all they owned were the farms, forestries and quaint merchant villages like Silvertown, but they also governed the Stilts. Well, ‘governed’, as in left to rot - but one thing they did give the people was a theatre. Something about the greenies being useless fighters and awful at flower arrangement, so they turned to acting and performance - a specialty of any High House really - and so they believed even the lowest Reds deserved some entertainment. 

Donghyuck still remembered his time at the theatre fondly - not in the spotlight, but behind them as the lighting assistant. His position on the balcony also meant he could enjoy all performances without worry of being pelted with food or stormed by a riot every Sunday, with the bonus of a perfect view of the actors. 

Only actors. The theatre head believed women to be ‘distractions’, or something, and only hired them when one of the Verdants’ inspectors came for a visit (their Head was a Lady, after all). This of course turned out in Donghyuck’s favour – ever wonder how he learned to dance at all, or how he’d managed to keep up his Haechan facade for this long? He was more distraction than any Stilt girl, at least Ten used to say.

The actors came and went, ever-changing with the hiring tides, and while the head paid consistently he didn’t pay quite so well (Donghyuck was still running two other jobs and stealing from all of them). So, fortunately, none of his escapades were the cause of some disbandment, let alone did they see the light of day. The secret nights on the balcony or daring trips to the roof were mostly lit by the moon and her understudy, the spin of the lighthouse mesmerising. 

With all this history, it should have been easy to fake his progress in the lessons. He was used to dancing with handsome men in places he shouldn’t be, and even back then he’d sometimes fake being bad just to make things more exciting. It should have been easy – if not for one fatal oversight.

The actors had wanted a feminine figure - be it male of female or otherwise – and that was The Point. It was purely physical, Donghyuck knew, and so when he learned to dance and become the partner of these actors, he was never the lead, the ‘man’ of the performance. 

Except the lessons with Mark weren’t so much him dancing with the prince as they were him dancing with an imaginary princess; basically: Donghyuck was suddenly the lead.

He knew how to dance the lead too – he was at the damn Theatre for nearly a year before it fell – but all his mental preparations for the dreaded nights consisted of him being twirled about by Mark, not the other way round. This shocker stumped Donghyuck so hard on the first night that all the mistakes he made were in fact unintentional – so kind of alright?

-No. Not alright at all.

The first lessons had been awkward incarnate – hands everywhere, neither of them sure what they were doing, Donghyuck still admittedly spooked by the room’s porno-esque look, and a fucking rug on the floor that Donghyuck tripped over so many times he learned that every fall would without a doubt be broken by Mark’s frightening reflexes – but lesson one was only the trial run.

See, from that point, it was like Mark had gone and constructed a whole battle strategy just on how to teach Donghyuck how to dance (and while he had meant to be bad-ish, the first lesson went full-on tits-up). It wasn’t paired dancing straight away – just the basics, solo – but that meant déjà vu on the whole Mark lowkey feeling him up as he corrected his position, exactly like the gun training. (Along with the sudden change from shy and awkward to serious and attrac- uh, confident.)

The only valid course of action for Donghyuck then was to unleash the teasing. The prince needed taking down a few notches, and it was his sacred duty as a Red to act; he definitely didn’t make fun to distract from the growing closeness between them, and he certainly didn’t do it just to hear Mark’s contagious laugh. (Maybe he liked telling the story of Lord Verdant’s ass tattoo a little too much, and maybe that was entirely because of Mark’s adorable complaints, but who’s to say?)

Really, Rachael had wanted him to squeeze some more info out of Mark through their lessons (she’d quickly found out about them soon after they begun) – but when it got to them Donghyuck forgot about the mission, the Scarlet Guard, the war, all of it. Donghyuck hadn’t laughed so much in such a short time since he was little (since the family dinners were sat by _everyone_ in his family). He found himself loving every moment of every lesson – beaming every time he got Mark to laugh or cringe or flare up in annoyance, that last one being especially fun (and cute).

Except, when the night finally hit and Donghyuck ran out of teasing, the situation would come crashing down into reality, like curtains wrenched open to the scorching sun – every spark from a candle over every breath, the heat of Mark’s gaze analysing his moves, the warmth of Mark’s back beneath Donghyuck’s hands, his shirt so thin Donghyuck was certain if it got wet would be 100% see-through (not that he’d ever thought about that image). For the first couple nights, care was not taken, and by the end of those lessons Donghyuck couldn’t deny the red tint to his features – but that was all fine because of the makeup, right?

Then he remembered that the maids washed it all off because technically he was meant to be asleep during lesson time. _Fuck_.

Well, at least half the time he blushed, it was after making a ‘mistake’ and consequently being caught by Mark’s lightning reflexes, so that they end up awkwardly almost-kissing every fucking time before Mark lets go and retreats like Donghyuck’s a wasp – so he could blame the colour on the ‘embarrassment of fucking up’, or something. Clearly, the lessons started painfully awkward, but Donghyuck managed to get away with his questionable acting and move on to new moves fairly quick – seeing as that was Mark’s favourite adjective when it came to Donghyuck – so it wasn’t quite insufferable.

Instead, Donghyuck suffered far too much accidental eye contact with the prince, too many dumb fucking butterflies as it got late into the night and Mark’s voice took on a sleepy gravel that _totally_ wasn’t attractive, along with all the frightened looks as he fucked up the simplest things (read: a box step), and the immediate giggles that followed – light as feathers, tickling his ears as they reddened even further. And, as Donghyuck finally stared back into Mark’s eyes, at a part in the dance where they were just that bit closer than they needed to be, the sense that Mark _knew_ he was pretending became clearer than ever.

-o-O-o-

“Mark’s been acting weirder than usual lately,” Renjun laid Donghyuck’s cup of tea down at just the right angle so it spilled over the edge, all while he continued, “thanks to you.”

Still trying to wipe the spilled liquid (Renjun wouldn’t do it for him, apparently that’s helping him too much and altering entire schedules isn’t, but hey), Donghyuck couldn’t manage a retort before Rachael butt in.

“It must be because of his leave. Or the ball tomorrow.”

Renjun scoffed, though he placed Rachael’s tea down with the utmost precision. “ _Certainly_. The war, the only thing he ever cared about, until now.”

Donghyuck blinked as Rachael groaned; then he whispered, “Uh, how many people know about our lessons?”

“Gods, you’ve been with Mark so long you’ve started to sound like him.” Renjun shivered, Rachael’s giggles in the background. “If you wanted information, you could have asked me. But, then again, I know why you didn’t, of course.”

“I didn’t ask _you_ because you’re loyal to him and won’t say a word without permission like a sad little puppy, _duh_.” Throwing the tea-stained tissues and landing them perfectly in the bin, Donghyuck straightened. “So, I went straight to the primary source.”

“Wow, when did Mr Kim teach you that terminology?”

Donghyuck was halfway to choking Renjun in a headlock when there was a knocking from beneath the floor. Like a little girl waking up on her birthday, Rachael was up and lifting away the rug to reveal a trapdoor. These old abandoned rooms were ever more pragmatic than one would think.

It took a few hard tugs until the door came open, revealing bandana-clad Jeno and Jaemin.

Renjun scowled at the show. “Your highness, those two are meant to be prepping for tomorrow.”

“I work fast.” Jaemin smirked, nudging Jeno, who began turning pink. “Don’t I, love?”

_Wait._

_The fuck??_

Blinking once at Jeno’s combustion, then twice at Jaemin’s infatuated gaze, and then pinching himself to check if this was a dream, Donghyuck eventually decided on: “ _Okay_ , I’m ignoring that.”

Rachael quickly congratulated the apparent new couple, hugging them as Renjun faked more belching. “See, while you were hopelessly courting my brother, _I_ actually got some matchmaking done.”

“Congratulations? But I’m not courting anyone.”

The whole room fell into judging silence.

Jeno eventually coughed, “Right, so who’s ignoring _that?_ ”

Donghyuck threw a biscuit at him, and consequently was almost murdered by Renjun for wasting food.

Eventually Rachael stepped in and Donghyuck managed to slither away - “We’re in a blocked off room only accessible by secret passages, how did he even get a whole service trolley in here?!”

“Oh, young one.” Renjun’s smile was as taunting as ever, his fake disappointment only adding more punchability points to his face.

Once it seemed there would be no more fighting (after Rachael threateningly lit the old candelabra on the central coffee table, the spider webs sparking out in a frightening display of a single moment), Jaemin finally moved on from staring at Jeno like he’d hung the stars just for him. Except he didn’t. “You tell them, darling.”

Faking a cringe - Donghyuck knew that face, Jeno was secretly loving all this - Jeno sighed and accepted his fate. “Well, so. Really, we’re just here to remind everyone about the plan. We got the equipment in the right passages - Rachael has shown you the tapestry, right? Good - the servants are diligently servanting, apart from Renjun, and have assured us they know how to switch off the lights as they once did so to sneak away with a Silver girl or something? Anyway, Taeyong should be coming back with servant uniforms for Jaemin and him soon, so I’ll just remind everyone of the targets.”

Lady Emira - the head of the silks. Once a spy, now a permanent placement in the palace beside the royals. Her watchful eyes had caught Donghyuck a few too many times, and with her around it’d be hell for any Scarlet Guard spies to maintain any long-term operations. Haechan had barely managed these few weeks and that was only because of the royals’ involvement.

Lord Ogun - the head of the magnetrons. That annoying prick Vildred’s dad, apparently. Donghyuck hadn’t seen much of him, but if he was anything like Vildred or the twins then he’s glad he kept his distance - he didn’t need another one. Only when this name was mentioned did Jaemin’s gaze darken for a second, before he was back to pretending he was simply in love and not about to commit high treason.

Lt. Colonel Nathair - the whisper bastard from the Feats, the catalyst of this whole mess. He must be the queen’s nephew. The youngest officer of such high rank in years, if one didn’t count the prince. Donghyuck had seen his terrors with his own eyes, and knew that the only way to climb so high so fast is with brutality. He didn’t need a backstory - Taeyong’s adamance on this name in particular was reason enough.

Finally, General Terran - Johnny, the war hero, Haechan’s cousin, Mark’s trusted friend. It hurt to hear his name again, but such a prominent figure had to go. It was safer than the prince or General Sai. It would strike the Silvers so badly they had to react - no sweeping under the covers once the nation’s hero was killed by the nation’s own Reds. Really, Donghyuck still didn’t like the choice, but he wasn’t in a position to argue. He and Rachael both, after blatantly itching to protect the prince. Sai was too dangerous because of the court, so Terran it would have to be.

“You’re not totally agreeing with these choices, are you?” Rachael interrupted his thoughts, “Did you have someone else in mind? Like Lady Verdant.” At Donghyuck’s confused grimace, she pouted. “What, you’re from Vermare, right?”

“Yeah, but her husband was the dick. _She_ was actually decent. Well, neutral, really. So, better than average.”

Then Jeno was laughing, “Whoa, so this is the princess… actually calling it _Vermare!_ ”

Finally twigging - he _had_ been with the Silvers for a month or so - Donghyuck joined in, “How Silver of you, your highness. It’s actually just the Stilts, then Silvertown, then shitloads of stinky farms inland.”

“But… wouldn’t that mean every county would have its own Silvertown?”

Grinning, Jaemin answered, “Where I’m from it was called _the Estate_.”

“Ooh, fancy!” Donghyuck cooed as Jeno uttered, “Posh.”

Renjun even got involved. “That _does_ sound like a Silver term.”

“Hey, wait a second,” Donghyuck scrambled to sit up, asking, “where are _you_ from?”

Renjun and Jaemin pointed at themselves then each other; Donghyuck shrugged. “Uh, both of you?”

Jaemin clicked his tongue, “Sorry to say, but for now my history shall remain a mystery.”

Nodding, Renjun seconded that choice. “Honestly, I’d prefer… if you didn’t ask again.”

A silent _oh_. He glanced at Rachael, who wore a careful expression, hoping he didn’t look as awkward.

The air grew stuffy until Jaemin chirped, “Well! Taeyong should be back now, so we’re gonna go.”

“Yes,” Jeno blurted, “good call. Good talk.” And then hastily shuffled back down into the trapdoor with Jaemin.

“Good luck!” Rachael called after them. “We should head off too.”

She was right - they couldn’t stay too long, or someone would miss them and raise suspicion. Waving the candles out, Rachael headed for the door; the trickle of flames reminded Donghyuck of the night, stolen touches, low voices-

“You wanna stay with mystery boy or something?”

Snapping back to her voice, Donghyuck quickly said goodbye to Renjun and followed her through the door. His mind wandered back to the enigma of the service trolley, and he was sufficiently distracted from the idea of _tonight_.

Their last lesson.

-o-O-o-

Hot summers always ended with storms. They attacked at night, under the protection of the moon - though she quickly vanished under the clouds. Burning up in the heat, it wouldn’t be long before the sky’s sweaty flood finished off with a boasting lightshow. The crackling tension between the cold night air and the coming storm as they clashed was already sending sparks of electricity flying - Donghyuck could practically smell it in the air, and he was still inside.

Oblivious to the raging battle, raindrops danced on the windows, the candles drifting towards the song. A gentle  _ pitter-patter _ , unlike Donghyuck’s heart. 

He’d gotten greedy, ditching his tried-and-true method right at the final lap, fucking up all his hard work. The final lesson, and he was stretching out their time together – nevermind that he gave up his bad dancer act and performed perfectly, too perfectly – and now he paid the price. 

Mark had been about to leave, a silent departure, and Donghyuck would never have had to remember any of this at all. And then Donghyuck pulled him back, touched him, held him, and Mark kissed his hand. (It was so easy to forget about consequences in the eye of the storm.) 

And Mark  _ knew _ , but so did Donghyuck. Neither of them were here to dance. He asked a question, and Donghyuck spun it on him. Too easy to play along – but at what point did this become a game? Held breaths, faces coloured in anticipation – whatever the game, Donghyuck was winning it.

But a game involving fire and lightning only ended in shards and dust. The movement of the scene in rapid slow motion. Mark’s fatal caresses and violent warmth. Donghyuck soaked in the touch, scalding. Eyes fluttered shut. 

Mark’s lips were on his. 

The simple touch was everything at once; passionate and vulnerable, confident yet soft, rough but delicate. It was so natural. So  _ Mark _ .

Sailing headlong into disaster, Donghyuck kissed back. 

_ Fuck _ . 

This was a real kiss. Or the fabled kiss, the Spark. The thing little girls dreamed about only to grow up and find themselves working at the Black Feather; the thing scumbags used in order to trap their partners in one-sided relationships; the thing Ten never gave up on as Donghyuck did, having seen his brother go through too much heartbreak over the lie.  _ Why did it have to be me?  _

But the thoughts faded, charred. Soon Donghyuck was gasping, Mark’s hands brushing through his hair; without thinking, he deepened the kiss. Melting, every point of contact positively searing, Donghyuck found himself pulled flush against the prince - or had he pulled Mark in? He couldn’t remember. Mark’s lips tasted like tea and smoke. Nibbling his bottom lip, Donghyuck discovered a hint of salt too.

They needed to stop.  _ This is all a lie.  _

Except Donghyuck didn’t mind standing in the flames that extra bit longer; he couldn’t bring himself to leave. The delusion was so intoxicating, and his scorched skin didn’t hurt one bit. (He couldn’t even notice the storm raging outside.)

This was the one thing, the one place, the one person Donghyuck couldn’t fight. Truly, his salvation was in Mark’s hands.

Age-long moments of bliss passed, and then Mark broke off, gasping. His hands were still in Donghyuck’s hair, his face flushed pale, sparkling. His gaze seemed to burn every detail of Donghyuck into his memory, because that’s all this could be. A memory. 

Avoiding those sad, bright eyes, Donghyuck detached himself from the prince. The pain finally came, tearing somewhere deep in his chest. He almost wanted to laugh at the ending, his eyes already watering. All those warnings, and Donghyuck still fell for him – typical. 

Afraid that any words would only cause more damage, Donghyuck left. Only the noise of the storm drowned out the silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mark pov: donghyuck is so mysterious, calculated, hot  
> hyuck pov: so i accidentally agreed to these dance lessons and mb the prince has a crush on me haha jk - oh wait.  
> -  
> WOOOOO fucking finally !!!  
> ngl i hope some of this doesnt seem lazy i just wanted to up the pace a little since rereading some older chapters,,, i realised i write way too much lmao.  
> so to make up for all the heart-tugging going one w the plot and markhyuck i added like 2 whole extra scenes of sg banter, and even got nomin to show up a lil early (to make up for half a year's delay lmao imsosorry)  
> once again thanks for reading!! kudos & comments are greatly appreciated <3


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